


Rising Tide

by kulina



Series: Made In America [2]
Category: Waterparks (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2019-11-17 15:31:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 142,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18101333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kulina/pseuds/kulina
Summary: Spanning one calendar year following Made In America.





	1. Prologue

Awsten’s hand stung. The icy rain pelted it incessantly as he walked through the woods, his sneakers smushing the shiny, wet leaves deeper into the mud. 

“You’re fine,” he muttered to himself, and he squeezed his eyes shut to combat the pain in his fingers. He wanted desperately to put his hand in his pocket even if only just to stop the stinging, but he’d been holding the hood of his jacket up for so long, and…

Fuck it. What did it matter if his hair got wet?

The instant he let go of the soaked fabric, it blew back, snapping loudly in the wind. Awsten’s face, ears, and hair were greeted instantly by freezing water and searing gusts. He winced at the sensations, but he quickly stuffed his raw, red fingers into his coat pocket, finding a reprieve from the pain. While the windbreaker wasn’t warm, it provided a dry space, and for that, Awsten was more than thankful. 

“Okay,” he whispered to himself, desperately glancing around. “It’s fine. You’re fine.”

But he wasn’t fine; this was the furthest he’d been from fine in quite a while. He was cold and wet and lost and alone, and worst of all, the sun had sunk halfway already.

Awsten shivered and ducked underneath a sturdy tree. The raindrops there were fewer and further between, but they were easily four times the size, and they pelted him twice as hard. 

“I’m gonna die here,” Awsten said softly, the sudden realization so much more chilling than the air around him.

He looked up at the leaves above him, and a wide raindrop smacked him in the forehead. He almost removed his hand from his pocket to wipe the water away, but then he remembered how horribly frigid the air was and just let it sit. 

“I’m gonna die here,” he repeated as it trickled down the side of his face.

He swallowed thickly, rolled his shoulders back, and resumed walking.


	2. June

** June 29 **

When Tuna hopped down from the chair she’d been snoozing in and wandered away, Geoff barely spared her a glance. He was waist-deep in the midterm papers he’d collected on Friday night. He sipped thoughtfully from his teacup and underlined an interesting thought from one of the football players. _Very good_ , he wrote in green. 

Just as he finished marking down the sentiment, there was a knock at the front door, so soft that Geoff wasn’t entirely sure that it had been a knock at all. Still, “Mr. Miller?” he called, brushing his fingers through his hair to smooth it down as he traveled the front of the house. “Is that you?” 

There was no reply.

He straightened his shirt and leaned forward to peer through the small window, but he didn’t see anyone. “Hm,” he murmured disapprovingly. He glanced down at Tuna, who was glaring right back up at him. “Did you make that sound?”

But before she could meow in response, there was a small clatter from outside. 

Geoff stretched on his toes to retrieve the key from atop the tall door, and he hurried to turn it in the lock to see what on earth was going on. His eyebrows lifted. “Awsten?” he inquired over the sound of the creaking hinges.

A bleached blonde hue had replaced the faded purple he was used to, but Geoff would know his student anywhere. Awsten was paused in the driveway with a bike at his side and a black duffle bag cutting into his shoulder. Geoff zeroed in on his red, teary eyes. 

Awsten was like a deer in the headlights as he stared back at Geoff. “I - I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “I shouldn’t have come here, I-”

“Are you alright?” Geoff asked, his eyebrows creased in concern. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Awsten mumbled. “This was a mistake; I’m sorry.”

“Awsten,” Geoff repeated as he jogged lightly down the steps. He didn’t have shoes on - only woolen socks - but this was more important than the state of his feet.

Awsten quickly started the other way, wheeling his bike beside him. 

“You look like you could use a meal,” Geoff invented, trailing behind him concernedly and hoping he didn’t sound like he was stumbling over his words, “and I was just about to start preparing dinner. Would you like to come in?” 

Awsten shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, it’s-”

“Mrrrow?” 

Awsten turned around, his fingers still gripping the handlebars, and he fell silent as he and Geoff looked back at the little, gray cat. She’d come out onto the porch and was staring directly at the blonde boy.

“You may spend as much time with her as you like,” Geoff offered. “I will stay away.” 

Awsten glanced at Geoff and then transferred his focus back to Tuna. “Okay,” he agreed softly. 

“Okay,” Geoff repeated, the word feeling slightly foreign on his tongue. 

“Just for a little while.”

“Alright,” Geoff responded, although he was fairly certain that Awsten had been speaking to himself.

They both started toward the house, and Tuna turned and glided back inside. Geoff wondered if she would dart away to hide, but when he followed her through the door, he caught sight of her sitting patiently in a corner, waiting for the boy. 

Awsten crossed the threshold and headed straight for the cat, not even glancing around at the house. Tuna watched him unblinkingly and let him crouch down beside her.

Geoff decided to pretend that he had some urgent business to attend to in the kitchen, so he excused himself and slipped away. As he left Awsten with Tuna, Geoff heard him whisper to her, “Hi, Tuna. Hi, pretty girl. I missed you.”

Geoff opened the pantry door, quickly surveying the modest contents before moving to the fridge and doing the same. He glanced toward the table to tell Tuna what he was going to make for dinner but stopped himself from speaking just in time. 

Within minutes, there was a pot of water bubbling happily on the stove, and Geoff hummed absently to himself as he poured the pasta in and gave it a little stir. 

“I like [that song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3r2IlhTwE3g),” came Awsten’s quiet voice. 

Geoff looked over to see him standing in the doorway with Tuna nestled his arms. She was purring loudly enough as he pet her that Geoff could hear her from across the room. He was a bit embarrassed to have been heard but mostly grateful that Awsten had finally decided to speak to him.

“As do I,” Geoff agreed. 

Awsten nodded toward the pot. “Um, what are you making?” 

“Pasta. Would you like some?”

Awsten shrugged. “Okay.” After a beat, he said hurriedly, “I mean - yeah. Thanks. I’ll eat anything.” 

“Very well,” Geoff responded with a small smile. “I haven’t yet settled on a sauce, but the tomatoes have ripened a few weeks early, and the garlic should be ready as well if you’d like to try some.”

Awsten tilted his head in confusion.

Geoff lifted the wooden spoon he’d been using to stir the noodles and pointed it out the stained glass window over the sink. He watched as Awsten, who was still cradling Tuna against his chest, made his way over to look out into the backyard.

“Whoa,” he muttered. 

Geoff smiled a little and stirred the pasta again. Several years prior, he had created a natural fence of six foot tall sunflowers around the edge of the sprawling yard. On the left side was a generously-sized garden.

“You grow all your food?”

That pulled a gentle laugh out of the teacher. “No. Oh, goodness, no. Some vegetables here or there, and some herbs and flowers. I make frequent trips to Carson’s, I assure you.”

“Oh.” Awsten looked down at Tuna and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Please have a seat,” Geoff said suddenly, his manners coming back to him. “Would you like something to drink? I have water, Sprite, juice…”

“No, I’m good,” he replied, but he did fill a chair at the table. Tuna nuzzled against him. 

“Alright.” 

The kitchen was quiet. Geoff noticed Awsten absently staring at the cottage calendar on the side of the refrigerator, but he didn’t comment as he wiped his hands on a dish towel, slipped on his gardening shoes, and traveled over to a cabinet to retrieve a little golden key. He unlocked the back door and started toward the grass. 

“Wait, she wants to come with you,” Awsten said a little urgently, and Geoff looked back over his shoulder. 

His gaze panned from Awsten’s face down to the ground where Tuna was trotting out the door. “Oh, she is welcome to. As are you.” 

Awsten hesitated and then stepped down onto the stone path to follow them. 

Geoff led the two of them to the tomato plants, which had reddened over the previous several days. Generally speaking, tomatoes weren’t supposed to be ready for another week or two, butdue to the Texan heat and humidity, many of the summer plants made their debut a little early. 

“One will suffice, I believe,” Geoff murmured as he examined them, looking for the ripest fruit. 

Tuna began subtly digging in the dirt beside him, but he noticed and stopped her with a stern glance. She slunk back to Awsten’s side where she rubbed against his leg, purring slightly. Geoff could hear Awsten whispering to her, but he wasn’t loud enough for Geoff to determine what he was saying.

“What do you think about this one?” Geoff asked, pointing out the one he thought looked best.

Awsten looked. “Seems fine to me,” he shrugged.

“Very well, then.”

Geoff gently removed it from the vine, and they went back inside.

 

* * *

 

Awsten wasn’t really sure what to do with himself. Mr. W had declined both of his offers to help in the kitchen, and Awsten didn’t feel much like talking, so when Mr. W suggested he turn on the TV in the other room, it felt like a blessing.  
  
With Tuna curled up on his lap, Awsten took a few moments to figure out how to operate the remote and then turned on SpongeBob. He petted Tuna absently, not really watching the TV but glad to have it on in the background so he couldn’t get too lost in his thoughts. After a few minutes, something dawned on him. “I bet you’ve never seen this show.”

Tuna ignored him.

“That’s Gary,” he informed her, pointing at the pastel, cartoon snail. “He’s SpongeBob’s pet like you’re Mr. W’s pet. And that’s Squidward, but no one likes him that much. Oh - there’s SpongeBob, see? The show’s about him. He’s a sponge, and he lives in a pineapple house, and he works at this restaurant called the Krusty Krab. They sell burgers called Krabby Patties.” 

Tuna continued pretending she couldn’t hear him. Awsten didn’t mind; he spent several more minutes telling her about the show anyway.

After a little bit, Mr. W appeared in the archway. “Hello. Dinner is ready,” he stated. 

“Oh, okay.” Awsten sat up to turn off the TV, and Tuna hopped down off of his lap, following Geoff into the kitchen.

During the three months Awsten had been at Peace and Purpose and the month he had spent with the Woods, he’d helped with dinner nearly every day, so it was strange to be called to a full meal without having at the very least set the table or filled glasses, but it smelled so delicious that he didn’t dwell on it too long. 

Awsten watched Mr. W for a few seconds to see whether or not he would say grace.

He didn’t. 

Awsten still wasn’t particularly religious, but he’d been conditioned to give some sort of thanks before he ate. He didn’t close his eyes, but he quickly bowed his head and thought, _Thanks for dinner._

Mr. W didn’t seem to notice.

Awsten picked up his fork, intending to dig into the pasta. Before he could, though, he exclaimed, “Whoa! This is the heaviest fork ever!” 

Mr. W smiled. “Yes.” 

“Is it made out of real silver?” 

Awsten had been kidding, so he was surprised when Mr. W nodded.

“Seriously?! And that’s why it’s so heavy?”

“Yes. At one point in time, most silverware was made in a similar fashion.”

“Wow.” Awsten took a bite. He chewed, swallowed, and declared, “Hey, this is really good!” 

“I am glad that you like it.”

He took another bite. This time, his statement came through a full mouth. “I can tell the sauce is real tomato.” 

Mr W nodded knowingly. “It does make a difference, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

They carried on for a bit in a stilted, awkward manner, but soon, Mr. W asked Awsten if he’d been reading anything lately. The conversation turned to the beginning of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, which was where the discussion remained until they cleared the table several minutes later. Awsten planted himself at the counter, insistent on helping with the dishes. He was surprised when he found out that despite having a large, fancy dishwasher, Mr. W washed everything by hand. Still, he didn’t question it. 

“-get it, you know? Like, why would you make the movie without the _best_ character?! What a fucking waste.”

Mr. W smiled. “I agree.” 

“God, I would have liked it so much more if he was in it,” he continued. “Probably not enough to actually pick it up and read it - okay, definitely not that much. But still!”

“I’m not at all surprised that he is your favorite,” Mr. W admitted as Awsten passed him a plate to dry. “He is much like you.” 

Awsten grinned. “Dude, I would be the best Hogwarts ghost. Me and him would just fuck with everyone all day.”

“I know you would.” 

“We could, like, rearrange all the classrooms so the chairs were on the ceilings. And give all the good kids As and make the bad kids fail. I’d fail Draco Malfoy for sure.”

“Oh, no,” Mr. W protested sadly. “He is one of my favorites.”

“What?!” Awsten cried. “He’s _evil!”_

“He is most certainly not,” Mr. W disagreed, “although I suppose you will have to read much further before you might understand my stance.”

“Thousands and thousands of pages…” Awsten groaned.

“But you enjoy the story, yes?”

“I mean, yeah…”

“Then you will be sad when you reach the end. We all are.”

“I already know how it ends.”

“It is a very different experience on paper than on a screen,” Mr. W told him, and he turned off the sink. “Besides, countless excellent parts are missing from the movies.”

“Like Peeves!” 

“Yes. And Valentine’s Day in book two.” Mr. W made a funny face, and Awsten chuckled. 

A quiet fell over the kitchen. Mr. W glanced around for Tuna, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“Can, um… Can you…”

“Pardon me?” Mr. W prompted.

Awsten looked away. “Can you read it to me? I have it in my bag.” 

Mr. W smiled. “Of course.” 

 

* * *

 

Once they’d settled on opposite sides of the couch, Geoff opened the book to the page Awsten had creased. 

“It’s been kind of a long time since I read,” Awsten admitted. “I was good about it when I first got back to Otto’s, but after a while, I stopped.”

“That’s alright. I haven’t been reading as much as I would prefer, either. Maybe this will help both of us to find ourselves back on track.”

Awsten nodded, and Geoff looked down at the book. 

"Wait," Awsten rushed out before he could begin. "Can you start at the beginning?" 

Geoff nodded. "Of course." He closed the book and opened it back up to the first page.

 

 

_Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you’d expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn’t hold with such nonsense._

 

"Oh, I love this book very, very much," Geoff murmured happily to himself, sliding down a little on the couch to get comfortable. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Awsten smiling. 

 

_Mr Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large moustache. Mrs Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbours._

 

Awsten chuckled.

 

_The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere. The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn’t think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters._

_Mrs Potter was Mrs Dursley’s sister, but they hadn’t met for several years; in fact, Mrs Dursley pretended she didn’t have a sister, because her sister and her good- for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbours would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn’t want Dudley mixing with a child like that._

_When Mr and Mrs Dursley woke up on the dull, grey Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country._ _Mr Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work and Mrs Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair._

_None of them noticed a large tawny owl flutter past the window._

 

A while into the next chapter, Awsten yawned. He was quiet, but both Geoff and Tuna, who had reappeared, noticed. Geoff continued reading, but Tuna got up from her spot by Geoff’s leg and padded over to Awsten and up onto his chest. 

“Hi, Tuna,” Awsten whispered to her, and he leaned down to nuzzle her face. She rubbed her face back against his cheek, seeming satisfied. 

Geoff smiled and turned his eyes back down to the book. 

  

_Half an hour later, Harry, who couldn't believe his luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life. His aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken Harry aside._

_"I'm warning you," he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry's, "I'm warning you now, boy -- any funny business, anything at all -- and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."_

_"I'm not going to do anything," said Harry, "honestly..."_

_But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him. No one ever did._

_The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry, and it was just no good telling the Dursleys he didn't make them happen._

_Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left "to hide that horrible scar." Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and taped glasses. Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. He had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain that he couldn't explain how it had grown back so quickly._

_Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting old sweater of Dudley's (brown with orange puff balls) -- The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit Harry. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn't punished._

 

Geoff looked up to find Awsten looking a little droopy. The expression in Awsten’s eyes reminded him of the day Lucas had opened the door to Peace and Purpose and Awsten had stumbled forward for a hug before falling asleep hardly six or seven minutes later. 

“Awsten.”

“Hmm?” the boy asked, looking up at him sleepily. 

“Do you…” _Do you plan to return to Otto’s home tonight?_ he’d wanted to ask, but something told Geoff not to word the question that way. “Will you require someplace to stay for the night?”

“Oh,” Awsten said awkwardly, sitting up. “Um, no, that’s… okay. I can go.” 

“Will you require someplace to stay?” he repeated. “You are welcome here. I have plenty of space.” 

Awsten opened his mouth and then closed it. “Okay. If you’re sure it’s not a problem.”

“I am sure.” Geoff stood and started toward the staircase. 

“Thanks. Um, let me grab my bag.” 

When he came back with the duffle on his shoulder, Geoff led him back toward the kitchen and up a slightly creaky set of wide, hardwood stairs. Tuna followed behind them with her tail straight up in the air. 

“I have not spent time on this level in years,” Geoff confessed as they ascended the steps, “but Juana comes every month, so I am confident that it is clean and well-taken care of.” 

“Juana?” Awsten echoed.

“Yes. She has been cleaning this house for as long as I can remember. She is kind and works very hard.” 

“Oh.” 

Geoff stopped at the top and gestured for Awsten to look around. “You may choose whichever you like.” 

“What?” 

“There are four bedrooms. You may take your pick.” 

“Four? Which one is yours?”

“Mine is downstairs.” 

Awsten nodded and turned back to stare at the open doors, but he didn’t move forward.

“I’ll leave you to choose,” Geoff said when he understood that Awsten might have been feeling self-conscious. 

“Kay.” 

“Once you’ve made your selection, you may come down or stay. Whichever you prefer.” 

Awsten nodded. “Okay,” he said again. “Thanks.” 

Geoff smiled at him and then started down the stairs. It was strange not to hear the pitter-patter of Tuna’s paws beside him, but he figured she was helping him examine the upstairs space. It seemed like both Tuna and Awsten were in need of a new friend.

 

* * *

 

The room at the top of the stairs was massive, so Awsten quickly moved on from it. He was used to much more modesty; he wouldn’t know what to do with so many square feet. 

The second room was white with butter yellow decorations. Flowers and butterflies adorned the pale curtains, the bed exploded with frilly pillows, and there was a framed painting of a sunflower hanging over the dresser. The space had its own bathroom, but Awsten deemed it far too girly and moved on. 

He walked straight across the hall and stepped inside a light gray bedroom with hardly anything in it at all. There was a bed, a desk, a dresser, a mirror… and that was it. It was spacious but still simple and familiar. Perfect. 

He dropped his bag on the mattress and sat down on it. Tuna leapt up onto the bed with him, and Awsten reached up to stroke her head. “Hey,” he said softly, and without warning, sadness slammed into him like a truck. He stood back up, crossed the room, and quietly closed the door. Then he went back to the bed and laid down. Tuna followed suit a few feet away. 

Awsten’s mind flashed back to an image from earlier in the day - Mr. Wood rushing toward him - but he hurried to push it away.

“What the hell am I gonna do?” he whispered to the cat.

“Mrrrow?” 

Awsten tried to smile at her, but the movement triggered tears to well in his eyes. “No,” he hissed at himself, and he pushed the feelings down. 

_Okay. It’s okay, right? Just, um. What would Zakk say? Distract yourself. Distract yourself, right? Let’s see._

“We can make a list,” Awsten told Tuna, using a fist to wipe at his eyes as he pulled in a strong sniff. He went to the desk and was glad to discover a lone pen and a pad of paper in the drawer. “Lucas likes lists. Let’s make a list.” 

On the page, he wrote in big letters,

 

To Do:

  1. Find a place to live
  2. ~~Make some money~~ Find a job 



 

He tapped the pen absently against his chin, thought for a moment, and then continued writing. 

 

* * *

Geoff nearly jumped out of his skin when an upstairs toilet flushed at ten PM.

“Oh,” he said aloud, remembering that Awsten was there, before chuckling to himself at how frightened he’d been. “Goodness. I almost spilled my tea on the essays.” He looked over at Tuna’s usual chair to see her reaction, but she was absent. “Oh,” he repeated. She was mostly likely upstairs, too. 

He went back to grading. 

Several hours later, when it was nearly one AM and Geoff had done everything to get ready for bed except put on pajamas, he crept upstairs. All of the bedroom doors were wide open, but only one room had a light on; he smiled when he realized which one Awsten had chosen. 

Geoff walked quietly toward it, expertly avoiding all of the extra squeaky floorboards as he went. He paused in the doorway when he found Awsten asleep on top of the quilt, still wearing his clothes. 

“Tuna,” Geoff whispered. 

The cat shot up from her spot and looked sharply at the doorway. Then, upon processing Geoff, she jumped down off of the bed and hurried over to him, where she rubbed lovingly against his leg.

He softly smiled down at her. “Come,” he told her under his breath. “Bedtime.” He turned the light off, and together, they retreated downstairs, leaving Awsten to sleep.

 

* * *

 

** June 30 **

In the morning, Awsten woke to sunlight creeping through the window. He yawned, readjusted, and closed his eyes again. Then something poked his back. Startled, he jumped and whipped around, and then he yelped when he was met with a pair of big, yellow eyes.

“Tuna!” he shouted.

She darted to the corner of the bed, still staring at him without blinking.

“You scared me!” he accused. 

She didn’t react.

“Oh, come on. You don’t get to sneak up on me like that and then act like it’s my fault I got scared.” 

“Mrow.” 

“Yeah, meow,” he sighed sarcastically, and he flopped back onto the pillows. “You probably made me wake Mr. W up. Now he’s gonna be mad.” 

“Mrooow,” Tuna repeated, coming just close enough to push her head against Awsten’s arm. 

“What? Do you need breakfast or something?” 

Tuna pushed against him again. 

“Okay, okay, I’m up. Geez.” 

He sat up and yawned again before dragging himself into the hall bathroom for a moment. He was careful to keep her outside the door. Once he finished up, they headed downstairs side by side. 

“Where’s your food?” he asked her quietly as they walked into the kitchen. 

There was a note for Awsten on the marble counter, though, and he went straight to it and picked it up.

 

_Good morning, Awsten_ , it said in that same green pen from high school. _I hope you experienced a good night’s sleep. Please help yourself to whatever breakfast you would like. Tuna has been fed, although I am sure she will attempt to convince you otherwise._

_You are welcome to stay in my home as long as you need, although I do ask that you remain out of any rooms with closed or locked doors. (They will be mostly on this main level.) Otherwise, you may do as you please. If you come and go, I would prefer you to leave the outside doors unlocked._

_I anticipate returning home around four o’clock, but a student has requested a meeting with me, so it is possible that I will return a little later. As of now, I have no plan for dinner, but if you are still here at that time, I am sure that we could whip something up._

_If you have any questions, my number is 281-555-4327._

_If you do elect to depart, please know that it has been wonderful to see you. Please also feel free to save my number and contact me if you need anything. I wish you all the best moving forward._

_Mr. W (Geoff)_

 

Awsten pocketed the note and said accusingly to Tuna, “You were trying to trick me.” 

She just looked at him. 

He glanced around the kitchen and wandered over to the window. For several seconds, he stared at the golden light casting long shadows of the sunflower stems across the grass. Quietly, he asked the cat, “Should I eat?” 

He glanced over at the fridge and thought about the fact that if he didn’t eat at Mr. W’s, he wouldn’t be eating anywhere. He had nowhere else to go.

“Okay,” he sighed, “fine. I’ll eat.” 

He opened the fridge, quickly scanning the contents. There was hardly anything inside, and everything present was either organic or in some sort of hand-labeled jar. Mustards, pickles, salmon, blackberry jam… yuck. There was half a carton of eggs, but no cheddar cheese. Awsten closed the double doors and went for the freezer drawer. Maybe Mr. W had some frozen waffles or something. 

Nope. 

Frozen vegetables - not the good kind - and an ice tray were all to be found.

“Don’t you like ice cream?” Awsten wondered aloud. He sighed and opened the fridge again before remembering that there was probably a pantry somewhere. 

Awsten accidentally opened a coat closet and the laundry room before finding the pantry, which had a picture of a cottage on it similar to the one Awsten had noticed on the calendar the day before. 

The pantry, although large and beautiful, was just as disappointing as the refrigerator, but at least there was some bread and peanut butter, although the bread was whole grain, and the peanut butter container boasted, “Extra crunchy! All-Natural ingredients! No sugar added!” so Awsten knew that it was probably going to taste pretty bad. 

He wasn’t wrong. And he was glad to have tried a small spoonful of it before wasting two pieces of bread. 

“Here,” he said, setting the spoon on the ground for Tuna, “you can have it.” But even she gave it a mere sniff and turned her nose up.

Awsten chuckled. “Yeah. Basically.” 

Eventually, he settled on some cheese-less scrambled eggs, which involved figuring out how to work the extremely clean, extremely shiny, extremely high-tech stove. He took his breakfast out to the back porch, where he sat in one of the generously cushioned chairs and ate slowly off of a heavy fork, watching the sun light up the thick wall of tall trees surrounding the house. 

Once his plate was empty, he went back inside and did the dishes immediately, which was, according to Otto’s mom, the best habit Awsten had gained from Peace and Purpose. 

The morning was filled with lazily flipping channels. Watching trashy reality shows and dumb cartoons without feeling judged was nice, but after several hours, it got boring, and Awsten was starting to get hungry again. Maybe there was a secret garage fridge. Didn’t rich people have those?

Awsten went into the garage but came up empty-handed. There was only a (really nice) mid-size SUV. Disappointing. But interesting, Awsten realized as he stared at the shiny Lexus; why did Mr. W need two cars?

And if he had two cars, what else did he have? Mr. W said Awsten could do whatever he wanted, right? It was time to start exploring. 

The first stop was the basement, which was a bit of a letdown as well. It was dark and dusty and a little spooky. Shoved against the walls were stacks and stacks of unlabeled cardboard boxes, each of them sealed shut with packing tape. Awsten was curious about what was inside them, but because of the tape, if he messed with them, it would be obvious. 

The space was big, though, like it could have been turned into something nice instead of just storage, but whatever, it wasn’t Awsten’s house. Or Awsten’s money. 

He went back up the stairs and started on the doors on the first level. He knew Mr. W had asked him not to open the closed doors, but what could the harm be, right? Besides, if his English teacher was secretly, like, a serial killer or something, it was better to find out on the front end and get the hell out than stay another night or two and become his next victim.

Not that Awsten was planning to stick around.

But anyway.

The first closed door he opened was the laundry room from earlier. He shut it again. After that, he found one locked door and then another. Weird. Awsten wondered what was in them. He opened another closed door... This was clearly Mr. W’s bedroom.

It was as pristine as Awsten had expected - fancy brown furniture, drawn curtains, and a perfectly made bed, which served as the room’s centerpiece. He went in a few steps, toward the open walk-in closet, when he was startled by someone rapidly approaching behind him. 

Awsten whirled around just in time to see Tuna run into Mr. W’s room and launch herself through the air and right onto the center of the bed, where she rolled around on her back, purring contentedly.

“No!” he whispered. “Tuna, get down! He’s gonna know we were in here now! You’re gonna get me in trouble!” He covered his face with his hands and then went to get her off of the fluffy down comforter. After spending a minute smoothing out the wrinkles, he sighed and carried her out of the room under his arm like a football, closing the door behind them.

“That was _bad_ behavior,” he told her crossly. “Lucas would have something to say to you about that.” He set her down on the hardwood, and she went on her merry way, this time disappearing up the stairs. 

“Fucking cat,” he muttered as he watched her go. 

Just as the words left his mouth, his stomach grumbled. “Okay,” he sighed to himself, splaying his fingers across his abdomen. “I guess we gotta go get something to eat.”

He jogged upstairs for his baggie of money and then came back down and exited through the front door, careful to leave it unlocked like Mr. W had requested. After a handful of minutes pedaling his bike on wooded back paths, Awsten came up behind Carson’s. He put the kick stand down and left the bike out beside the air conditioning unit before walking around to the front of the building. 

“Well, hello there, Awsten,” an old man called to him.

“Hi, Mr. Carson,” Awsten replied with a little wave.

As the man came into view, his round glasses set on his nose and a dark blue apron tied around his waist, he commented, “Your hair looks mighty nice.”

“Thank you, sir,” Awsten responded with a slight smile. He lifted his hand and ran his fingers through it. All the purple had faded out, and he’d bleached it again but decided not to dye it. He’d thought it would be too much of a hassle trying to keep up with maintaining a color in the summer. But things had changed. 

Regardless, everyone kept telling him that the blonde suited him, so he planned to leave it the way it was. At least for the time being. He knew that the adults were just more comfortable with the natural shade, but they weren’t wrong; it did look pretty good.

“You’re welcome. Although I must say, my Ella will be awful sad to see that blue gone.”

“Blue,” Awsten echoed, suddenly remembering the day Mr. Carson’s tiny granddaughter had bounced up to him with her oversized, white hair bow to ask how he’d painted his head like Cookie Monster. “I almost forgot about that. I had purple for a long time, too.”

“Ah, she would've loved to see that.”

“If I do it again, I’ll be sure to come by.” 

“Please do. And tell your Otto I got more of those Georgia peaches in he likes.” 

Awsten faltered. “Okay,” he forced out. 

“So! You in for more juice? Or some chocolates? Or both?”

“Not today, sir,” Awsten answered, glad for the conversation’s turn. 

“What are you looking for?”

“I think I’m just gonna browse,” he supplied with a little shrug. It was a lie, but he needed to stare at the price stickers, and Mr. Carson would try to get him to buy whatever he thought tasted the best, which would, no doubt, be expensive. Expensive by Awsten’s standards, at least.

“Alright. Holler if you need me!” 

“Okay.” 

Awsten frowned to himself as he walked away, recalling the times he’d come through the small store and lifted food out of desperation. Not today. He had a few dollars to his name this time - ten, to be exact.

God, he needed to get a job.

He crouched down in the bread aisle, looking for the cheap, off-brand stuff they kept on the bottom shelf. He rifled through the few loaves, looking half-heartedly at the expiration dates stamped onto the bags. Eventually, he picked one and walked a few feet over to the peanut butter. 

“Fuuuuck,” he protested to himself, staring at the prices. Seven dollars for a jar of peanut butter?! He picked out the smallest container of Skippy, which cost a little less than three dollars. Awsten still thought that was a bit outrageous, but he figured if he went slowly, he could get a whole lot of sandwiches out of that. Besides, the loaf of bread was only ninety-five cents. 

He took his two selections up to the counter and politely declined Mr. Carson’s suggestions of a candy bar or a bottle of ‘Co-Cola’ to go with them. 

“Alright. That’ll be three seventy-six.”

Awsten handed over the cash and glanced to make sure his change was correct. When it was, he said to Mr. Carson, “Tell Ella I said hey.”

“I will. You have a good day, hear?”

“You, too, sir.”  Awsten started out but paused and walked back inside. “Hey, Mr. Carson?”

“Yes?” 

“Are you hiring? I know it’s a family business and all, but…”

The old man looked regretful. “No, I’m afraid not.” 

“That’s okay. I figured. Uh, do you know anybody who is?”

“I think Dolly is, down at the general store! You’ll have to stop by.”

“Okay, thanks,” Awsten replied, a little dejected. He’d worked there before and quit on the spot; that bridge was burned.

Feeling a little dejected but mostly just hungry, he went around the side of the store to grab his bike and slide the bag over the left handlebar. He hopped onto the bike, pushed off, and started pedaling.

 

* * *

 

As Geoff drove up to the house, he was surprised to see Awsten’s bike still on the porch. He pulled into the garage and went inside, where he was surprised again - this time because Awsten had, it seemed, made dinner. 

“Oh!” Geoff exclaimed. 

“It took me a forevvvver to find everything in here,” Awsten told him in lieu of a greeting, “but I did eventually.” He pointed at the table. “You can sit down.”

Geoff raised his eyebrows. “I’d like to change clothes, if that’s alright,” he said, a hint of warning in his tone. 

“Oh, sure. That’s fine. I still have finish this one thing.” 

Geoff slipped into his bedroom, changed, took a brief moment to write in his journal, and then went back into the kitchen, where Awsten was doing something that was causing clouds of steam to billow up from the sink.

“What have you made?” Geoff wondered. There wasn’t even a faint scent in the air to help him deduce what was awaiting him. In addition, Geoff had no idea whether Awsten possessed any cooking skills at all, so he was curious (and perhaps a little afraid). 

“Green beans.”

“Oh?” What he really wanted to say was, _And?_ but it had been many years since he’d come home to any food prepared at all, and he wasn’t about to complain.

“Yeah.” 

“Green beans,” he echoed.

Awsten turned to him. “And sandwiches.” 

“Ah. Well, thank you. Would you like me to-”

“Nope.” 

“Very well.” Geoff took a seat.

A moment later, Awsten brought over two plates, each with a large helping of green beans and something in between two slices of white bread. “Try this.”

“Pardon?”

“Just try it,” Awsten demanded. 

As much as Geoff had missed Awsten, he had not missed his pushy attitude. “What is it, if I may?” 

“A real sandwich.” 

Geoff stared down at it warily but did pick it up. It was much softer under his fingertips than the rough, seeded bread he was used to. 

Awsten was staring at him expectantly, so Geoff raised the food to his mouth and took a bite. His eyes went a little wide as a sticky substance coated his tongue. 

“And?” Awsten prompted, one eyebrow raised. “What do you think?”

“It tastes incredibly sweet,” Geoff answered, covering his mouth as he tried to chew. 

“Uh-huh,” Awsten nodded proudly. “It’s good, right?”

Geoff didn’t answer. 

“Well, my mom says you need to take three bites before you decide whether or not you like something.”

Geoff swallowed. “Three bites?” he echoed.

“Yeah,” Awsten replied, his face falling a little. He quickly started talking again. “Uh, the first one you probably won’t like cause it’s new, one more to help you get used to it, and the last one you can decide on.”

“That is very smart,” Geoff murmured, looking down at the sandwich. Then, to Awsten, “This is white bread?” 

He nodded.

“Hm. It tastes nothing like I expected.”

Awsten blinked. “Wait - you’ve never had white bread?!” 

“No.”

“ _What_?”

Geoff smiled and took another bite. “And this, on the inside… it’s… peanut butter?” 

“Yeah. _Real_ peanut butter.” 

“Real sugar,” Geoff muttered.

“I know. Isn’t it great?” 

“It is certainly different from what I am used to.”

“I saw,” Awsten said, wrinkling his nose. “I was gonna make a sandwich, but I changed my mind.”

Geoff chuckled. “Well, thank you for this one. It is certainly less crunchy.”

Awsten plopped down in the chair beside Geoff’s, picked up his own sandwich, and took a big bite. Through the mouthful, he said, “Smooth is the only way to eat it.”

They fell silent, both eating their meager dinner. 

“I do quite like this,” Geoff finally admitted when he only had a few bites left.

Awsten grinned. “I knew it - everybody does. You want another one?”

Geoff hesitated and then said, “Yes, please.”

“Nice. I’ll make it in a second.” 

“Oh, you don’t need t-”

“ _I’m_ cooking,” he said firmly, and he got up right that moment and went to the counter as if to prove it. 

_Cooking._ Geoff smiled. 

“So! What did you do today?” Awsten asked as he started to spread peanut butter on four new pieces of bread.

“I went to school.”

“School? In the summer? What do you do? Like, planning and stuff?”

“Oh - not at Lakeview High. I have been teaching a few English courses at Texas A&M.”

“Cool! Are they reading Of Mice & Men, too?”

“No; it is a wonderful novel, but I assume that most of them have previously been exposed to it.”

“Oh. What, um. What _are_ they reading?” 

“Currently, my senior seminar is reading King Lear, and-”

“I’ve never heard of that,” Awsten shrugged, coming over with two more sandwiches and handing one to Geoff. He sat back down, stabbed a green bean with his fork, and popped it into his mouth. “What’s it about?”

“It’s a Shakesperean tragedy about a king - King Lear - who attempts to divide his kingdom between his three daughters before he steps down from the throne. He tells his daughters that the portion of the kingdom they receive will be in proportion to the amount of love they can show to him.”

Awsten looked absolutely repulsed. 

“No,” Geoff protested with a laugh, “it is nothing like that. As I mentioned, it is a tragedy, so of course, everything goes poorly. Lear goes mad, and he spends the rest of the play wandering about in the wilderness with his fool.”

“His fool?”

“Yes. A jester of sorts… He is very loyal to Lear and, because of his position, is able to point out Lear’s flaws and moderate his behavior without repercussion.” 

“Oh.”

“The plot doesn’t interest you much, does it?” Geoff asked knowingly.

Awsten shrugged.

“One of my students feels the same way. She can't stand the tragedies, although she does adore the comedies.”

“Why? They’re not funny.”

Geoff nearly dropped his fork. “Pardon me?”

Awsten shrugged. “They’re not funny, and the tragedies aren’t sad. They’re just… boring. I don’t know. And old.” 

_Boring and old!_ Geoff wanted to shout in shock, but he settled for nodding. “I have heard that from a few other students, as well, but I find Shakespeare to be one of the greatest writers of all time. If not _the_ greatest.” 

Awsten laughed and countered, “But he’s like, ‘oh, good sir of the starry night, doth thou want to come alas to thine sword fight hitherto?’”

Geoff snorted. “That makes no sense.”

“Exactly!”

“Well,” Geoff began curiously, “who would you choose as the greatest writer of all time?”

Awsten shook his head. “I have no fucking idea.”

A little while later, they finished eating, and Geoff disappeared into his bedroom for his boots. As he put the left one on, Tuna stuck her head and entire upper body into the right. “Tuna,” he chided. 

“Mrow?” she asked, the sound muffled in the boot.

Geoff laughed lightly and reached over to gently pick it up.

“Mrrrrow!” she objected. 

“No. Shoes are not for cats.”

When he went back into the kitchen, he found Awsten loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher. 

“I am going for a walk,” Geoff told him. “You are welcome to accompany me if you like.” 

“Oh, I don’t know…” Awsten replied quietly, his eyes on the floor as he dried his hands on a dishtowel. He didn’t look embarrassed; he looked sad. 

“I am going through the forest,” Geoff added. “It’s-”

“The forest?” Awsten repeated, perking up instantly. His gaze rose to meet Geoff’s.

“Yes. Would you like to come?” 

“Yeah! Let me get my shoes.” 

Before Geoff could even speak, Awsten dashed out of the room and thumped up the staircase.

It was odd, hearing the sound of someone else in the house. Geoff hadn’t necessarily missed it, but this was… different. It came with much less stress than it had previously. Before he could dwell on it too long, Awsten came rushing back down with one shoe on, hopping a little as he stuffed his foot into the other. 

Geoff stared curiously down at the collapsing sneakers. “Don’t you lace and unlace them?”

“Why?” Awsten asked. 

Geoff was further puzzled. “Why not?” 

“It’s a waste of time,” he shrugged.

“Alright, then.” _Strange_. Geoff motioned to the back door. “Shall we go?”

“We shall,” Awsten replied with a nod.

Geoff opened the back door.

“Hey, is Tuna coming?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Awsten was quiet for a second. “But she wants to.” 

“She must remain here. I fear she’ll wander off and get lost among the trees.”

“Okay.” Sadly, Awsten said to the cat, “Mr. W says you have to stay here. I’ll see you when we come back.”

“Mrow?”

Awsten squatted down in front of her, blocking her from exiting. “No, he said you can’t come. But we’ll be back later! I love you!” He pecked her head and stood back up.

Geoff decided to pretend he hadn’t heard anything, and he waited until Awsten had closed the door and caught up to him before he explained, “In the mornings, I walk down the road, but in the evenings, I take the path through the forest.”

“There’s a path?” Awsten asked in surprise. “I thought everybody said to stay out cause there’s no paths.” 

“There are some if you make them yourself,” he replied with a mysterious smile.

 

* * *

 

Despite being in the middle of the woods, there were no leaves for Awsten to crunch on. It was a certainly earthy, though, so he was glad he’d remembered to stuff his ratty pair of tennis shoes into his bag as he’d been leaving with tears streaming down his cheeks. 

_Are you sure he's not in there?_ he’d asked anxiously.

_I’m sure,_ came the steady response.

“Uh, Mr. W?” Awsten asked. They’d been walking in silence for several minutes, and it had been fine, but his thoughts were beginning to get to him. 

“Yes?” 

“Um…” He paused for a long moment and then shrugged. “I don’t know.” 

“I hope you know that you may tell or ask me anything,” Mr. W said easily. 

Awsten’s lips formed a tiny smile. “Thanks. But, um, I really don’t have anything to say.” 

“Very well.” 

They were quiet again. 

Images of Sunday afternoon started floating through Awsten’s head, and to push them away, he replaced them with thoughts of Michael. That always distracted him. 

He wrapped his arms around his midsection as they continued deeper into the woods, and memories of Michael’s shiny, black gun and his crimson blood quickly erased everything he’d been trying to forget. In his mind’s eye, he watched the stream of red liquid pulsing wildly out of Michael’s head, smelled piss and grass, and felt the morning dew underneath his fingertips. 

His heart sped up in his chest. 

He felt simultaneously numb and panicked as the tidal wave of memories washed over him. Was this a dream? There was no way Michael had actually… Awsten dropped to his knees, right into the puddle of blood, loud, horrified moans falling unconsciously from his lips as his mind processed the gaping hole torn easily through the body in front of him. He reached forward for the brain on the ground -

Awsten stumbled over a large root and was startled back into his current surroundings. “Shit,” he muttered, a little dazed. 

“Are you alright?” Mr. W asked, turning back to look over his shoulder.

Awsten quickly straightened up and muttered, “Yeah. Tripped.” He pointed down at the offending root. 

Mr. W searched his face for a moment and then said, “Perhaps we should return home.” 

“Okay,” Awsten whispered. 

“Okay,” Mr. W echoed softly. 

When they got back, Awsten went straight upstairs without a word. Tuna followed behind him, and Awsten stopped halfway up the steps to scoop her up and exhale into her soft fur. She purred contentedly, and he kept walking. 

He got to his borrowed bedroom, shut the door behind himself as quietly as he could, and went straight to the window. 

 

* * *

 

_ June 30, 2014 _

_Good evening._

_ Awsten will be sleeping upstairs again tonight. He seems well overall, but I do believe that I may have witnessed a flicker of something gloomier while we were walking in the woods. I will attempt to keep an eye on him while he remains in my home.  _

_ He made dinner tonight (green beans and sandwiches composed of white bread and smooth, Skippy peanut butter) and insisted on washing the dishes in the dishwasher. Thanks to him, over the last two days, I have tried two new foods, been taught a bit about cats, and learned much about his opinions - specifically what is “lame,” what is “gross,” and what is “cool.” Mostly, I have enjoyed reading with him and speaking with him about Harry Potter.  _

_Tuna is certainly glad to have him for company. He is very gentle with her and monologues to her constantly. I was under the impression that I spoke to her often, but I believe that she seeks him out to hear the omnipresent sound of his voice. He is quite affectionate with her, too, frequently toting her about and seemingly always touching her in some way. For example, I caught him using her as a footrest yesterday evening, although I must say, she seemed perfectly content with that. _

_ I do admit I am slightly worried about Awsten. He has such a soft soul, and it troubles me to think that he may be in pain.  _

_ May be. How silly of me. _

_ He is in pain, most certainly. He came into my home yesterday with wet eyes, and I could hear tears in his voice. I only hope that I may be of assistance to him in whatever way he needs. _

_ In other news, I have finished grading all of the freshman midterm essays. They are improving as steadily as I’d hoped; it seems the brush-up grammar lessons I gave them have helped tremendously. Still, I find that the students are, as usual, teaching me more than I could ever possibly teach them. _

_ It’s a different type of teaching, I suppose. _

_ Before I depart, I would like to mention that Mary and I have been communicating quite often. She is a kind and wonderful woman. I expect to spend more time with her soon if things continue the way they are, and I truly am looking forward to another meeting with her.  _

_ Well. _

_ It is nearing time for me to retire to my bedroom, which means that I will, in a moment, slip up the stairs to see whether Awsten has fallen asleep with his door open again. In the case that he has, I will retrieve Tuna so that she may spend the night with me as usual. If the door is closed, I will leave them be.  _

_ (The door was open. Tuna has now happily taken over my pillow. Goodnight, future historians.) _


	3. July

**July 1**

“You’re not at school,” Awsten noted as he walked into the kitchen. He was still wearing his clothes from the day before, and his blonde hair was sticking up everywhere. 

“No, not on Tuesdays,” Geoff replied. 

“Oh.” 

“There is oatmeal on the stove if you would like some.”

“Okay.” He was headed for the pantry when he noticed a woven basket sitting atop the island. “Hey, there’s fruit!” 

“Yes, that has been on top of the refrigerator.”

“What? Since when?” he demanded. Without waiting for an answer, he asked, “Can I have some? I’ll pay you back.”

“You needn’t pay me for anything. Help yourself.”

“Are you sure?” Awsten checked hesitantly. 

“Completely.”

“Okay.” He poked around for a moment for selecting something and pulling it out. “Wanna see me peel a whole orange in one piece?” 

“Very well.” 

Awsten came over to the table and plopped down into the chair across from Geoff’s, digging his thumb into the top of the thick outer layer.

Geoff subtly pulled his novel further out of the way so that it wouldn’t get sticky from juice. “Where is Tuna?” he wondered as Awsten began to work. “I assumed she was with you.” 

Awsten shrugged. “She was in my room when I woke up, but then she left.”

“Hmm. I haven’t seen her.” He watched as Awsten broke the peel off of the fruit in a spiral. “I’m not sure I’ve ever come across someone who does that.”

“Not everyone can.” 

“Well, I’m sure it’s a matter of practice,” Geoff pointed out. “Most skills are attainable.”

Awsten shrugged again and kept going. When he finished, he held the long peel up proudly and then then dropped it directly onto the table.

Geoff just barely stopped himself from wincing. 

“You think I could fit this whole thing in my mouth?”

Geoff looked up and realized that Awsten was talking about the orange in his hand. It was nearly the size of a baseball! “Pardon me?”

“Have you ever tried?”

“Certainly not.”

“Do you think I could?”

“I should w-”

Before he could finish, Awsten opened his mouth and started to push it in.

“Awsten,” Geoff said with a hint of urgency, “I’d really rather not take you to the emergency room.”

Loudly, Awsten sighed. “Ugh, _fine._ ” Then Geoff heard him quietly mutter to himself, “I can definitely do half.” He split it in two, opened his mouth again, and, before Geoff had the chance to object, stuffed it between his lips. 

Geoff watched him unblinkingly. 

Awsten attempted a silly smile, but he couldn’t around the mass of food. He tried to chew, but that didn’t go well, either. 

Although Geoff was more than a little repulsed by the drool spilling from Awsten’s mouth, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the way Awsten’s lips were puffed out like a chimpanzee. 

After nearly twenty seconds of effort (and a several deep breaths through his nose), Awsten managed to get the bite down to a manageable size. Once he finally swallowed the last bit, he took a moment to breathe before announcing, “So, I’m never doing that again.”

Geoff laughed. “ _Orange_ you happy that you didn’t attempt the entire thing?” he intoned.

Awsten groaned at the pun. 

Geoff smiled proudly. “In other, more normal news,” he said, changing the subject, “I am planning to make a trip to the library and run my errands in about thirty minutes, if you’d like to join me.”

Awsten shrugged. “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

“Do you own a library card?” Mr. W asked curiously under his breath as they walked through the glass doors. 

“Uh, no.”

Mr. W held a finger to his lips, and Awsten wanted to roll his eyes. He fucking hated the library.

“You could register for one right now,” Mr. W whispered. He motioned to the gigantic room. “It would give you access to everything here.” 

“I don’t need _anything_ here.”

“Alright, then.” He motioned Awsten to follow him to the left. “They have a room for students your age.”

“I’m not a student anymore,” Awsten pointed out, but he followed Mr. W anyway.  


“That is true,” Mr. W murmured. They stopped in a doorway, and Awsten peeked inside. Spread throughout were tons of books, some beanbag chairs, a collection of CDs, and some games. Unintentionally, Awsten began to wander in.  
  
“I will be in either the reference or nonfiction section,” Geoff noted, and then he disappeared.

Awsten headed over to the CD cases and looked through them for several moments. He had no intention of doing anything with them; he was just curious to see which albums the library had. Once he’d sifted through enough stacks to grow bored, he drifted toward a display of graphic novels. Most of them had robots or cartoon kids on the front, so Awsten ignored them, but [one of them](https://readgraphicnovel.online/oldrgno/2016/09/read-beautiful-darkness-page-1/) looked really… weird. So he picked it up.

Awsten flipped through the beginning, a little curious but not too interested. Then he found himself staring down at one of the pages in horror. “Oh my _god,_ ” he muttered. He sat down in a chair and read until the book got too disturbing, at which point it dropped it onto a table several feet away from where he’d originally picked it up.

Awsten traveled back to the display, hoping for something a lot less… gross. He rifled through comic books and something that looked way too science fiction-y for his taste before [a different, thicker novel](https://www.scribd.com/document/274023838/The-Comics-Library-78-Blankets-2003-pdf) caught his eye. 

At first, he smiled down at the pages, because the main character and his little brother reminded Awsten of Jawn and the constant bickering that went on between them. But as he kept reading, the smile faded. He returned to the chair, turning each page one at a time. 

He kept going, pulling his feet up onto the cushion and sinking deeper into the story, feeling like the frown pulling on his lips would never leave. 

A woman came in after a moment, and Awsten’s head snapped up. 

She smiled at him but didn’t say anything as she spent a minute tidying up. Awsten wished she would leave; he couldn’t focus even though she was only making a little bit of noise. 

“This shouldn’t be here,” the woman said to herself, and Awsten looked over to see that a troubled expression had settled onto her features. She’d picked up the book he’d been looking at before. “Did you bring this in?”

“No, it was already here. But yeah, it was pretty… gross,” he offered.

“It sure is,” she agreed. “This is one of the new ones. I was thumbing through it when it came in, and I was…” She shook her head, her smile returning. “But someone requested it, and what can I say? This is a library; we’re not in the business of censorship here.” 

He nodded like he knew what she meant. (He didn’t.)

“What is your name?” she asked him. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Awsten.” 

“Awsten, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Miss Sara.”

He smiled awkwardly and nodded. 

“I’ll be around if you need anything. Gilbert is here, too. He’ll be the one sitting behind the desk writing poetry.” 

“Okay. Thanks.” 

With Awsten’s rejected book in hand, she disappeared. 

Awsten adjusted in his chair and returned to the dark story. Several minutes later, a high-pitched voice made him jump. 

“Hi!” 

Awsten blinked at the little boy who’d wandered in. He couldn’t have been more than six years old. “Um, hi.” He sat up a little. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

The boy didn’t speak, so Awsten went back to his book. But then-

“Is your name Awsten?”

Awsten looked at him cautiously. “Why?” he inquired instead of answering. 

“Cause your daddy’s looking for you.” 

Awsten’s blood ran cold. “What?” he whispered. 

“Yup. He asked Mr. Gilbert if he’d seen a teenage boy with blonde hair, and he said no, and then he said his name is Awsten. Is your name Awsten? You’re a teenager, and you’ve got blonde hair.”

Awsten exhaled in relief. His dad didn’t know that he’d gone blonde. “He’s not my dad,” Awsten said to the kid as he got to his feet.

“Oh. Who is he?”

“Doesn’t matter.” 

“Oh.”  
  
Awsten started to put the book back but hesitated.

“Are you Awsten, though?” the boy persisted.

“Yeah. Who are you?” he asked, starting toward the door to the room.

“Clark. Like Clark Kent!”

Awsten chuckled. “Okay.” 

The boy hurried after him, almost tripping over his own loose shoelace. “I’m a superhero!”

“Yeah. Superman, right?”

“Uh-huh! You know him?” 

“Yeah. My best friend lo-” Awsten abruptly stopped speaking.

“What?” the little boy asked curiously.

“Loved him,” Awsten reluctantly finished, an unsettling feeling creeping into his stomach. He sped up, leaving the space and heading toward the front desk. “Where’s Mr. W?”

“Who?”

“The guy who’s not my dad.” 

But then Mr. W softly said, “Awsten?” 

“I found your Awsten, Mister!” Clark stage-whispered, running up to Geoff. “I’m Clark! Like Clark Kent!” 

“Why, thank you, Clark,” Mr. W replied seriously, leaning down a little. He reached out to shake Clark’s hand. “My name is Geoff Wigington.” 

“Nice to meet you, Geoff Wigington!”

Awsten gave a little smile, although he felt a pang of sadness; he missed Travis.

“It’s quite nice to meet you, too.” Mr. W eyed the book under Awsten’s arm. 

“Um, how much is a library card?” Awsten murmured to him. “Or can I borrow yours?”

“It’s free,” Mr. W told him. 

“Free?” Awsten double-checked. 

“Yep!” Clark seconded. “That’s how come I get to come here every day now that school’s out. It’s free!” 

“Cool.”

“Bye, Awsten! Bye, Geoff!” Clark called suddenly, waving at them as he dashed back toward the room Awsten had come from.

“Slow down, Clark,” the man behind the desk - Mr. Gilbert? - ordered sternly.

Clark obeyed for a moment, but then picked up his speed again. 

The man rolled his eyes, exhaling a loud breath through his nose.

“He reminds me of you,” Mr. W said to Awsten with a small smile as he watched Clark rush away.

“He reminds me of Travis.” 

They stepped up to the desk.

“Good morning, Geoff,” the man behind the computer said. He set down his pen, and Awsten peered as subtly as he could over the counter down to see what he was writing. The short lines certainly looked like poetry. This must be the guy.

“Hello, Gilbert,” Mr. W responded politely.

Yep. Definitely him.

“No Mary Oliver today?” Mr. Gilbert inquired dryly.

“Not today.” 

“Hmph.”

Mr. W didn’t react to the sound or say anything else at all, and he looked unusually stiff. Awsten wondered if maybe Mr. W didn’t like Mr. Gilbert very much. 

“Could we open a new library card as well, please?” Mr. W asked him. 

“For Awsten?” Mr. Gilbert asked, ceasing scanning Geoff’s small stack of books in order to glare down his long nose at the teenager.

Awsten rolled his shoulders back and gave the grouchy man a confident smile. 

“Yes, please,” Mr. W replied. 

“How old are you?” he asked Awsten.

“Sev- eighteen!”

“Do you have state-issued identification on your person?” he asked monotonously, finishing with Mr. W’s books and pressing a button on his keyboard.  
  
“Yes, sir,” Awsten replied cheerfully, but it was inaudible over a tiny machine that began screeching as it spit out a long receipt. He dug into his pocket, careful to keep the baggie that contained his driver’s license and whatever money he had hidden from sight as best he could. He wiggled the card out, placed it on the counter, and waited.

The man squinted at it and then sighed to himself as he dropped a piece of paper in front of Awsten. “Fill out this form and sign the bottom.”

Awsten glanced at Mr. W before grabbing a black pen from a cup that declared HARRIS COUNTY LIBRARY SYSTEM and beginning to write. 

“ _Wow_ ,” Awsten scoffed as they walked out the doors and into the humidity of the parking lot. “He’s a real ball of joy.”

Mr. W smiled in agreement. “He has worked at this library as long as I have lived in Texas - and much longer, I’m sure. I regret to say this, but I do find him to be quite dreary.” The car beeped as he unlocked it. “On most days, I walk here, but since we will be going to Carson’s, I figure the car is necessary.”

“Okay.” Awsten slid into the passenger seat and buckled his seat belt.

“Would you mind also if I stop at the pet store?” Geoff asked as he took his seat behind the wheel. “Tuna’s food is nearly gone.”

“No, whatever’s fine,” he responded honestly. 

“If you see a toy she might like, maybe we can purchase it.” 

Awsten’s face lit up. 

 

* * *

Running errands mostly consisted of following Mr. W around as he picked up products that Awsten considered too expensive (salad dressings in glass jars, fresh meat) and unnecessary (weird spices, ridiculously fancy cat food).

“What would you like?” Mr. W asked as they wrapped up at the grocery store, and Awsten paled.

“Oh, um. I don’t-”

“It’s alright. What would you like to eat?” 

“Anything. I’m, um. I’m gonna leave soon, so…”

“I insist,” Mr. W said firmly. “Gather some things. I will wait at the front if you’d like me to.”

Awsten pursed his lips and then nodded. As Mr. W left, Awsten began wandering around, trying not to dawdle but also feeling incredibly strange having someone else pay for his groceries. It had been bad enough when Otto’s parents insisted, and now this?

“I’ll pay you back,” Awsten promised as he set a few items down on the belt where Mr. W was 

“Is that all?” he asked curiously. 

Awsten nodded.

 

* * *

 

_Every night I would scheme of running away. I’d go through the motions: sneaking some snacks from the kitchen cupboard (rations), stuffing my backpack with clothes (two pairs of underwear in case one gets dirty…), and feigning a casual interest in geography as I consulted my parents’ atlas (how far is California?). But even then, I knew I was powerless to enact such a maneuver, that the real world could only deliver new threats-_

 

Awsten stood up from his spot in his bedroom and padded down the stairs, a blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. 

Mr. W was seated at the kitchen table, and he looked up as Awsten walked in. “Hello, Awsten.”

“Hi.” Mr. W looked at him expectantly, so he held up his graphic novel and said, “Um, can I sit with you?”

“Of course. Is everything alright?”

Awsten nodded and went to pull out the chair he’d come to think of as his. “Yeah. I just, um…” He didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he tugged the blanket closer around his shoulders and sat down, opening his book back up. 

“Would you like some tea?” Mr. W offered.

“No, thanks.”

“Alright.”

Awsten could feel Mr. W’s eyes on him, but he didn’t look up, and Mr. W didn’t speak. Within a few seconds, Awsten could hear Mr. W’s pen resume scratching on his paper. It was distracting at first, but after a while, he got used to it, and he fell back into the book. 

 

_But even then, I knew I was powerless to enact such a maneuver, that the real world could only deliver new threats, and that I should be grateful for the security I did have. And anyway, I’d discovered a much easier means of escape._

_“Hey, Craig.”_

_“I’m trying to sleep.”_

_I was trying to dream._

 

Awsten adjusted in his chair. 

 

_My other get-away car was drawing, where my brother accompanied me at the wheel. He didn’t share my escapist approach it seemed, but drew as a means of spending time with me, of connecting with me. And indeed when we drew together, often collaborating on the same page, I felt connected to Phil._

_An entire day would be consumed by drawing, interspersed with fits of running around outside expending our energy. These were the only wakeful moments of my childhood that I can recall feeling life was sacred or worthwhile._

 

Awsten’s focus drifted back to Jawn. He wondered how his turbulent roommate was faring. Now that it was July, he was probably almost done with school. Awsten’s thoughts of Jawn changed to those of their shared bedroom, of Zakk’s bedroom beside theirs, of Zakk and Lucas celebrating in the driveway with a stack of mail between them, of the shape of Lucas’ hand holding a pencil as he calmly walked Awsten through creating a plan for his future, of the morning Lucas shared story of Chance, of all the tears (from Ashton _and_ Travis _and_ Jawn) on the day Awsten had left, and then of Clark from the library that morning and how much he’d reminded Awsten of Travis.

It was a lot to ask Mr. W to drive him forty-five minutes to Peace and Purpose, but maybe Awsten could convince Mr. W to lend him the extra car from the garage. Awsten would promise to be careful. Like, super, super careful. 

“Hey, Mr. W?” 

“Yes?” Mr. W asked, not looking up from whatever he was writing.

“How come you have two cars?”

Mr. W’s pen stilled. 

The room grew so quiet that Awsten could hear the clock ticking on the wall several feet away, could hear air whooshing through the vents above them. 

“Wh…y do you ask?” Mr. W finally responded. 

“Well, I, um. I don’t know.”

“Why?”

Awsten huffed. “It’s dumb.”

“I would prefer to decide that for myself, please.” 

Awsten shrugged and looked away. “I just kinda miss Peace and Purpose a little, and I thought maybe I could borrow your extra one and go up there and…” He shook his head. That was way too much to ask. He tensed, suddenly fearing some sort of repercussion, and quickly said, “It’s stupid. Never mind. Sorry.” 

“That’s not stupid at all. Peace and Purpose was your home.” 

The words tugged on Awsten’s heart strings. “Yeah.” 

“I would be happy to drive you. You’ll have to acquire approval from Lucas, though.”

“You would really do that for me?” Awsten asked quietly. It was such a long trip. He knew that the Woods would have taken him... Before. They’d told him as much, and he had truly believed it. But now…

“Of course. It's no trouble at all, I assure you.” 

Awsten exhaled, a small smile on his lips. “Thanks.” 

“You are welcome.” He studied Awsten for a moment longer. “Are you truly sure that you wouldn’t like some tea?”

Awsten chuckled then. “I’m truly sure.” He read for a few more minutes, but as he continued, his mood turned sour. Angrily, he folded the corner of a page down and slammed the book shut. 

Mr. W looked up at him again, eyebrows creased. “Awsten?”

“This book is hard,” he stated simply, and he got up and walked out of the room. 

“Where are you going?” Mr. W called after him in concern.

“To find Tuna,” he said over his shoulder. Again, he pulled the blanket closer. 

 

* * *

 

_July 1, 2014_

_Today, as some say, has been “a day.”_

_I spent nearly every waking minute of it with Awsten. Getting used to his presence has been both difficult and good, but today - although it had its positive moments - the entire thing was a challenge. I am not used to comments about everything I do throughout every second of the day. I do not enjoy being told by a teenager that what I have been doing my whole life (avoiding the dishwasher, purchasing spices, etc.) is wrong._

_I invited him on my errands in the hopes that it would be a nice way for him to unwind a little, but it proved only to wind me up._

_Merely looking at him is hard enough on its own; every time I lay eyes on him, I am doused with memories of what took place on the fifth. But he is traumatized as well, even more than I. He frequently “zones out” or snaps at me or is deeply upset by little things that I cannot understand. Even just now, he slammed a book onto the table and disappeared without a word of explanation._

_I find parts of myself looking forward to the day that he departs._

_After he went upstairs, I skimmed through the book (it is a graphic novel entitled Blankets), traveling backwards from the place he had marked. The pages gave an in-depth description of what Hell might be like, and I believe that it frightened him. I do not pretend to know his stance on religion, but since we live in the southern United States, I am not afraid to venture a guess that he does believe in some form of afterlife similar to Heaven and Hell._

_(As I write this, I find myself lying; the specific page he marked had four panels, each of a little boy locked in some sort of small, dark space, pleading to his father to let him out. I believe one of them said something along the lines of, ‘Daddy, I’ll be good.’ It was disturbing even to me, but after some of the things that have taken place in his past… I cannot imagine.)_

_Should I speak with him about this book perhaps not being appropriate, I wonder? He is old enough to make his own decisions, after all, but I do not want him setting himself back in his recovery. All I desire for him is peace and happiness, and I know that books have held much power over myself in the past. And for him, being such a new reader and someone who already seems to have difficulty regulating his emotions, this could truly be damaging._

_I am conflicted - about the novel, but at the moment I am referring to what I wrote earlier and the way that I am feeling presently. Yes, it has been a difficult adjustment. At the same time, I do care for him very much. He is a wonderful person who carries an undeniably bright light everywhere he goes. I am learning to understand that light. And it will take time._

_He is a child - a very pained child - who needs care and support. Who possibly needs ME. I know that the Woods, who fall among some of the kindest people I have ever met, love him deeply. I trust their judgement._

_He asked me tonight to drive him to Peace and Purpose for a visit. I will, happily. He deserves a chance to see his friends again. Perhaps it will assist him with everything else that is going on._ _I know from experience how hard it can be to leave what you love most behind and travel somewhere else with excitement and high hopes just to have those hopes dashed in the span of weeks, which is exactly what happened to him._

_I hope that he is alright upstairs._

_Perhaps I should bring him some tea._

 

* * *

 

Awsten looked up at the sound of a quiet knock at the door. He was lying on the bed, propped up on his elbow as he petted Tuna, who was lying about a foot away from him. 

“I know that you declined, but I made some tea for you regardless,” Mr. W said. He came into the room and placed the cup and saucer on the bedside table. 

Awsten didn’t reply, not even to say thank you.

Beside the drink, Mr. W set Awsten’s library book. “I looked through this; I do hope that you don’t mind.”

Awsten shrugged one shoulder. 

“The intensity seems to lessen. But you are under no obligation to continue if you do not wish to do so.”

“I know.”

“Books, like people, sometimes reveal themselves to be different than they appear at first glance.” 

Awsten nodded, and Mr. W copied him. 

“Goodnight, Awsten. Goodnight, Tuna.” 

He started out the door, but Awsten said, “Mr. W?” 

“Yes?” he asked, stopping and turning back. 

“Thanks. For, like… everything.” 

Mr. W smiled. “You are more than welcome.” With that, he disappeared down the stairs. 

Awsten didn’t drink the tea (although he did sniff at it), and he didn’t open the book, either.

 

* * *

 

**July 2**

“So,” Awsten said as he and Geoff wrapped up dinner, “guess what?” He stuffed a forkful of baked chicken into his mouth.

“What?” Geoff replied.

Nonchalantly, he stated, “I got a job.” 

Geoff’s eyebrows shot up. “Well! Congratulations, Awsten! That’s excellent.”

Awsten grinned. 

“Where will you be working?” 

“Uh, the yogurt place on Main.” 

“FroYo Mama?” Geoff checked, and Awsten burst out laughing. 

“Yeah,” he said through his giggles. “That’s the one.” 

“What is so funny?”

“It’s a stupid name, and it sounds even stupider when _you_ say it.”

Geoff fought the urge to roll his eyes. “‘Stupider’ isn’t a word.”

Awsten shrugged and took one last bite, still amused. “Can I have that?” he asked, pointing to Geoff’s nearly-empty plate.

Geoff wordlessly slid it to him and watched as he began stuffing the last bits of mashed potato into his mouth. “How did you obtain the position?” 

“I was riding my bike, and I saw they had a sign up in the window that said they wanted someone for the summer,” Awsten explained through a full mouth. “I went in to ask about it, and the owner lady - you know Miss Chang, Brandon’s mom?”

“Yes.”

“It’s her. She was like, ‘The job’s yours if you want it.’”

“You were not required to hand in a resume or sit for an interview?”

“Nope. She just asked if I could work on Fourth of July, and I said yes, and she was like, ‘You’re hired.’”

“Oh, I see,” Geoff nodded. 

“Yeah. So, anyway… hopefully I can get a lot of hours and save up fast, and then I’ll be out of your way.”

“You are not in my way,” Geoff countered.

“I know, but I don’t wanna be. Um, so. How was college?” he asked, standing up, taking both plates to the sink, and cranking the faucet on as high as it would go.

Geoff raised an eyebrow at the unusual question. “College was nice.” 

“That’s good. Um…” Sheepishly, he asked, “Can you help me with something?”

“What sort of something?”

“The… tax form kind of something?” he asked hopefully.

Geoff chuckled. “Yes, I can help with that. Shall we do it before or after our walk?” 

“Um, is before okay?”

“That is fine with me.”

“Okay, cool. Thanks.” Then, “Who’s M?”

“Mary,” Geoff responded without thinking, and then his stomach dropped. He looked up and found Awsten leaning over his lit-up cell phone. “ _Awsten_ ,” he said sharply.

“Who’s Mary?” 

Geoff pursed his lips. “Please do not look at my phone.”

“Why do you save your contacts under just one letter? Wait, there’s a new one… She called you ‘baby’ at the end of this one! Is it your girlfriend?” His lips broke into a grin. “Mr. W, do you have a girlfriend?!” he asked excitedly.

“No,” Geoff responded, his cheeks reddening but his voice firm.

But Awsten clearly didn’t believe him. “You do! You have a girlfriend! Oh my god!”

“Awsten, I wo-”

“A girlfriend, a girlfriend!” he sang teasingly, finishing up with the plates and slotting them into the dishwasher. 

“I d-”

“Mr. W and Mary, sittin’ in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

“Awsten.” 

He grinned and playfully closed the dishwasher. “Yeah?”

“Please stop.” 

“Okay. Does she live in Lakeview, though?”

Geoff sighed. “I would appreciate it greatly if you-”

“Okay, geez, I won’t say anything else to you about your _girlfriend,_ ” he promised, still smiling. “We’ve got tax forms to do, anyway.”

 

* * *

 

**July 3**

“Okay, so that’s everything, I think.” The blonde girl tucked a lock of hair behind her glasses. “Oh! Your uniform! Here.” She motioned for Awsten to follow her to a box in the corner of the back room, where she pulled out a black visor, a purple apron, and a blank, plastic name tag. “Just wear a neutral t-shirt - like white or gray or black or something - and jeans.”

Awsten looked reluctantly down at the visor. 

“I know,” she said, “but it’s the rule.” 

He nodded.

“Do you have any questions? I know I went through all that kinda fast, but I just thought it might be better to have a little tour before you’re thrown into the snake pit.”

He had a lot of questions, but he didn’t think he should ask any of them. He figured he’d just wait and see how things went. Before he could say no, she spoke again.

“It’s not a snake pit,” she rushed out. “I don’t know why I said that. Um. It’s actually really easy working here once you get everything down. I promise.”

“Okay, good.”

“Alright, well, get that apron on,” she told him with a smile. 

He did, and he reluctantly put the visor on, too. He looked down at his name tag. “Um, do you have, like, a Sharpie or something I can borrow?”

“Yeah!” She led him to the counter where there was a small, plastic cup filled with pens and Sharpies that all had giant fake flowers attached to the ends. “You gotta watch when the customers are signing receipts. Some people will try to walk out with them.”

“Even with these?” Awsten asked, waving a blue flower around dramatically sniffing it. 

She chuckled. “Even with those. It’s so weird. Like, get your own pen.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. As neatly as he could, he wrote, AWSTEN on the name tag and then started away with the Sharpie in his hand.

“Hey!” the girl called after him.

Awsten turned around with a cheesy grin. “Oh, oops. I forgot…” 

“Back in the cup, mister!” she smiled.

He dropped it in and leaned against the counter. 

Just then, a little beep emitted from the girl’s wrist, and she smiled. “Alright. Time to open the doors!”

She went over and unlocked the little deadbolt. 

Awsten didn't know what he'd been expecting, but he was a little surprised when nothing happened.  “Now what?” he asked.

“Now, we wait.”

“For people to show up?” 

“Uh-huh.”

“But… it’s morning. Nobody gets frozen yogurt in the morning.” 

She shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah, but we get paid, so…”

“True.” He waited a few seconds and then said, “I have a dumb question. You’re… You’re Maddie, right?”

“Yep. Not Liv. I lost my name tag. I just kinda don’t care enough to make another one.” 

“Okay, yeah. That’s what I thought,” he said, relieved to have guessed the right twin. 

“And you’re Awsten Knight.”

“Uh-huh. So you’re a… senior now?”

“Yeah. And you graduated last year.”

He nodded. 

She added, “Me and Liv were in line with you and Otto Wood for Santa one year at the mall.”

Awsten’s eyebrows rose. That must have been fourth grade, since that was the only year Awsten did the whole Santa Claus thing. The Woods took him on the same afternoon they took Otto, but in fifth grade, Awsten got stuck on the whole, ‘How can one dude get around the whole world in one night?’ thing and eventually realized that it was impossible even with time zones and that the entire thing was a lie. A big, heartbreaking lie that had made his life a thousand times more difficult for years. But he was relieved when he figured it out; Santa didn’t actually hate him. Awsten wasn't on the naughty list like his parents had told him. Santa wasn’t even real. 

“I don’t remember,” Awsten admitted.

“I’m pretty sure my mom wouldn’t stop singing some Christmas song.”

Suddenly, a memory popped into Awsten’s head. “Jingle bells!” he cried.

“I don’t know.”

“No, it was!” he insisted. “She had this crazy Christmas tree sweater with all these little bells on it instead of ornaments, and-”

“Ohhhh, you’re right,” Maddie groaned. 

“-she kept shaking it and singing! You were singing with her, and-”

“No, that was definitely Liv. I wanted to sink into the floor!”

“Why?”

“Cause my mom’s so embarrassing!”

“Nah,” Awsten said with a smile, reaching for another pen with a giant fake daisy on top. “She seems cool.” He would have been more than happy to have a dorky, singing, spirited Mom like Liv and Maddie's. 

“She is  _not._ Plus, I kind of had a crush on Otto, but.”

“What?!” 

“ _Anyway_ ,” Maddie said loudly, “it was was Liv singing, not me. Liv loves Christmas music. Any kind of music, really. She never stops singing, ever.”

“So she’s the one in all the school plays, then?”

“Right.”

“And you’re the basketball girl.”

Maddie snorted. “‘The basketball girl,’” she repeated, shaking her head. “Yeah, that’s me.” 

“So wait, that means your dad is-”

“Coach Rooney, yeah.”

“God, he kicks my ass in P.E. every fucking year.” 

“That’s his favorite thing to do,” she laughed. “The more he sees people hating his class, the more he enjoys making them suffer.” 

“Somebody’s here,” Awsten said, quickly straightening up and shoving the pen he’d been twirling back into its cup as a guy sauntered up to the glass door. 

“What?” Maddie asked, and she turned to look. “Oh, that’s just Jake.” 

“Oh. Is he, like, your boyfriend?” Awsten asked awkwardly.

“NO!” Maddie yelled. She cleared her throat and calmly brushed a lock of loose hair behind her ear. “I mean, no.”

“Why?”

“Cause I hate his guts,” she said, rolling her eyes, “but don’t tell him that. He’ll just get worse.” 

Awsten laughed. “What’s he doing here?”

“He works here,” Maddie grimaced.

Awsten’s eyes went wide. “Noooo,” he moaned.

“Yep.” 

“But he’s a fucking _asshole._ ”

“Tell me about it.”

“He’s, like, the epitome of a fuckboy douche bag!” Awsten complained.

There wasn’t time for Maddie to respond before Jake flung himself into the building. 

“YOOOOOOO!” he yelled as he burst through the door. 

“Hi,” Maddie replied, not moving from her spot at the counter. 

“Mads, Mads, Mads… You look beautiful as always.”

“Thanks.” 

“And - YO!” he shouted again as his eyes landed on Awsten. “YOOOO, a fro yo bro!” 

Awsten chuckled in disbelief. “You haven’t changed at all,” he commented bluntly. Blonde hair, big, brown eyes, obnoxious muscles… Even his baby face looked the same. 

“Aw, dude, I thought you looked familiar! You went to Lakeview High, right?”

“Didn’t we all?” Maddie muttered, turning away so Jake wouldn’t see her roll her eyes. 

“Yeah. I was a year behind you,” Awsten supplied.

“Cool, cool, cool. Dude, what’s your name?”

Awsten and Maddie traded a glance.

“Awsten,” Awsten said at the same time Maddie dryly noted, “He’s wearing a name tag, you know.”

“Awsten, that’s right!” Jake leaned toward him. “You got a girlfriend, Awsten?” 

“Uh, no?”

“Dude!” He leaned in and elbowed Awsten several times in the arm before winking in Maddie’s direction. “She’s single, too.”

“Okay!” Maddie cried, holding her hands up. “Jake! Shut up! Go put your uniform on.”

“This _is_ my uniform, boss,” Jake pleaded, motioning down to his short shorts and Vineyard Vines t-shirt. 

“Now.”

Jake heaved a dramatic sigh before hanging his head and whining, “Fiiiiiine.” He marched himself to the back room.

“You get used to him,” Maddie lied, pushing up her glasses.

Awsten just shook his head. 

This was going to be interesting.

 

* * *

 

**July 4**

The front door banged open and then slammed shut. Geoff glanced in the direction of the noise but didn’t move; he’d learned that that was just the way Awsten moved between rooms.

“Tuuuu-na!” Awsten sing-songed. “Where aaaare you?”

“She’s here,” Geoff responded back. 

Awsten dragged himself into the sitting room with his purple FroYo Mama apron crunched up in his hand.

“How did it go today?” Geoff inquired as Awsten collapsed onto the couch. 

Tuna stared at him and then slowly moved closer to sniff at his clothes.

“Crazy! It was busy as fuck. I didn’t know that many people here even _liked_ frozen yogurt. The parade ended at like eleven, and then we had a line out the door. Out the fucking door, dude!” he repeated, outraged. “All these little kids were running around, and it was loud as fuck, and I didn’t remember how to work the registers. Oh, and Jake’s a fucking bitch who doesn’t want to put down his phone and help, so Maddie was basically doing everything by herself. I felt so bad.”

“Maddie Rooney, you said?”

“Yeah. When it slowed down, I got her to show me what to do again so we could get through people faster, cause they came back in the afternoon, but I still kinda sucked at it. And Maddie told me to keep telling people it was only my second day, and that did help. They were a little nicer after they knew that.” He sighed loudly. “We'd better get paid extra. I’ll give Maddie some of my money. Me and Jake would have fucking died without her.” He turned his head to Geoff. “What did you do today?”

“I wrote the final exam for one of my courses and finalized an essay prompt for another. Now I’m reading,” he said, holding up [an autobiography](https://books.google.com/books?id=dJxgRpnCntMC&pg=PA252&lpg=PA252&dq=brain+on+fire+pdf&source=bl&ots=yb6NC1EckZ&sig=ACfU3U2FuTsPW_HKuUwm0mVdmX1H-9fMVA&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwj1gIuH-Z7iAhUnwlQKHbXyDak4KBDoATAIegQICRAB#v=onepage&q&f=false) for proof.

“What’s it about?” Awsten asked. 

“A woman who falls severely ill. Her doctors misdiagnose her countless times, and she is hospitalized for several weeks. Right now, her medical team believes that she has schizophrenia, but they haven’t been successful in treating it.”

Awsten wrinkled his nose. “You like that?”

“It’s fascinating. And phenomenally written.” 

“Oh.” Awsten reached a hand toward Tuna. She swished her tail but didn’t move in his direction. “What about Harry Potter?”

“What about it?”

“You like that, too.”

“Yes. It’s similar to music, I suppose; one is not limited to a single genre.”

Awsten nodded. “Can you read it to me?”

“Which? This, or Harry Potter?”

“Harry Potter.”

“Yes.” Geoff reached to the side table where he’d set the book down the last time they’d read together. “Awsten,” he said carefully, “I have been meaning to ask you… tonight, do you think you’ll want to go see the fireworks?”

“Nah,” Awsten replied, looking away.

“Alright.” Then, even more carefully, he asked, “Do you expect that the noise will bother you?”

“No, I just don’t wanna go.” 

Geoff nodded. “If it does-”

“It won’t. I just don’t wanna go.” 

“Very well.” He tried to the book. “Do you remember where we stopped?”

“Harry just met Ron on the train.” 

Geoff nodded in confirmation.

 

_ While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past. _

_ Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"  _

_ Harry, who hadn't had any breakfast, leapt to his feet, but Ron's ears went pink again and he muttered that he'd brought sandwiches.  _

_ Harry went out into the corridor. He had never had any money for candy with the Dursleys, and now that he had pockets rattling with gold and silver he was ready to buy as many Mars Bars as he could carry -- but the woman didn't have Mars Bars. What she did have were Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs. Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Harry had never seen in his life. Not wanting to miss anything, he got some of everything and paid the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts. Ron stared as Harry brought it all back in to the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat.  _

_ "Hungry, are you?"  _

_ "Starving," said Harry, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty.  _

_ Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."  _

_ "Swap you for one of these," said Harry, holding up a pasty. "Go on --"  _

_ "You don't want this, it's all dry," said Ron. "She hasn't got much time," he added quickly, "you know, with five of us."  _

_ "Go on, have a pasty," said Harry, who had never had anything to share before or, indeed, anyone to share it with.  _

_ It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Ron, eating their way through all Harry's pasties, cakes, and candies (the sandwiches lay forgotten). _

_ "What are these?" Harry asked Ron, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "They're not really frogs, are they?" He was starting to feel that nothing would surprise him.  _

_ "No," said Ron. "But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."  _

_ "What?"  _

_ “Oh, of course, you wouldn't know -- Chocolate Frogs have cards, inside them, you know, to collect -- famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy."  _

_ Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a man's face. He wore half- moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.  _

_ "So this is Dumbledore!" said Harry.  _

_ "Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron. "Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa -- thanks.” _

_ Harry turned over his card and read: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS. Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.  _

_Harry turned the card back over and saw, to his astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared. "He's gone!"_

_ "Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. "He'll be back. No, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her... do you want it? You can start collecting." Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped.  _

_ "Help yourself," said Harry. "But in, you know, the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos."  _

_ "Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron sounded amazed. "Weird!"  _

_ Harry stared as Dumbledore sidled back into the picture on his card and gave him a small smile.  _

_ Ron was more interested in eating the frogs than looking at the Famous Witches and Wizards cards, but Harry couldn't keep his eyes off them. Soon he had not only Dumbledore and Morgana, but Hengist of Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, and Merlin. He finally tore his eyes away from the druidess Cliodna, who was scratching her nose, to open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.  _

_ "You want to be careful with those," Ron warned Harry. "When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor - you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a boogerflavored one once." Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner. "Bleaaargh - see? Sprouts."  _

_ They had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. Harry got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny gray one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper _

_ The c- _

 

A firework banged in the distance, the first one Geoff had heard all day, and his stomach turned. His grip tightened on the book. The sun was still far too bright for anyone to be able to see fireworks clearly, so Geoff wondered if maybe a family was testing them out or letting a child experience them before bedtime.

“Mr. W,” Awsten said quietly, and when Geoff looked over at him, he noticed that he was a bit more huddled in on himself than he had been a moment previously.

“Yes.” 

“Is it cool if I skip our walk tonight?” 

“That would be fine, Awsten. I was thinking of opting out as well.” 

Awsten nodded and reached over to pick Tuna up. He placed her on his lap and began stroking her back, which prompted her to begin purring. 

“Shall we continue?” Geoff wondered. 

Awsten’s reply was so soft that it was almost a whisper. “No, you can stop.” 

Geoff nodded, sliding a bookmark between the pages. “Are you alright?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Alright.” He placed the book back on its table and said, “I was also thinking that, instead of cooking tonight, perhaps we could order a pizza.” 

Awsten tried to smile. 

“Does that sound like something you would enjoy?”

He nodded. 

“Alright. Do you have a preference of restaurant?” 

“No,” he replied, but Geoff was fairly certain it was a lie.

“Do you prefer Antonio’s?” 

Looking caught, Awsten nodded again. 

“So do I,” Geoff said with a smile, and he walked out to the kitchen to find the phone number. 

As he exited, he heard the TV come on, and the familiar sounds of a Play-Doh commercial filled the room. Geoff hummed along to the little jingle, which he’d learned unconsciously a few days previously. (Awsten watched an obscene amount of Nickelodeon and Cartoon Network.)

When Geoff came back in several minutes later to ask him what he liked on his pizza so that he could place the order, he found Awsten sound asleep on the couch with Tuna at his side guarding him. 

It appeared that dinner could wait a while. 

 

* * *

 

Ninety minutes later, nearly an entire large pizza had been eaten and Awsten had disappeared upstairs. Geoff was just unlocking one of the downstairs doors when the sound of a gunshot filled his ears. He froze, key still in hand, and waited. Then the gun fired again, and again. Geoff was about to rush upstairs to find Awsten when he realized - it wasn’t a gun at all. It was the fireworks. 

Shaking his head at his stupidity, he paused and listened to see if there had been any noise from upstairs. When there wasn’t, he turned the key in the lock, pushed the door open, and went in, shutting it behind himself. 

Nearly twenty minutes passed before Geoff noticed a voice calling out for him.

“Mr. W? Mr. W?”

“Awsten, just give me one moment, please,” Geoff called from inside the room.

But Awsten must not have heard, because he asked again, “Mr. W?” 

Geoff opened the door, locked it behind himself, and found Awsten standing completely still in the center of the kitchen with a blanket back around his shoulders. 

“Mr. W?” Awsten repeated, so loudly that he was almost yelling.

Geoff flinched. “Awsten,” he said, and the teenager whirled around.

He walked briskly toward Geoff, not stopping until he was smeared up against Geoff’s side. His fingers closed around the fabric of Geoff’s t-shirt. 

“It’s alright,” Geoff told him gently, patting his back. 

“I hate this,” Awsten whispered, and as another one banged in the sky, he turned so that his face was hidden in Geoff’s shoulder.

“As do I.”

“I hate this, I hate this…” 

Geoff stood still, letting Awsten draw comfort from his presence. “It will be over soon.”

“No, it won’t,” Awsten protested, and his grip on Geoff's shirt tightened. 

“Shh… We are safe here. Nothing is wrong. People are celebrating.” 

“I know. But it sounds like Michael,” he confessed, and with that, Geoff wrapped an arm around his student. 

“I thought the same thing,” he admitted quietly. 

Awsten stood in his grasp, quiet and clearly trying very hard to keep himself together. 

Geoff’s heart twinged as he watched Awsten in pain, and the sadness only worsened when he realized that this was likely not only happening to the teenager in his kitchen but also to several other people all around the town, children and adults alike. 

And there was nothing Geoff could do to stop it. 

Unless…

Geoff straightened up and let go of Awsten in favor of walking to the counter. 

Awsten looked up at him with fearful eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly.

“No, there is no need to be sorry,” Geoff told him, picking up his car keys and heading toward the garage.

Awsten stood still, looking heartbroken. “Wait, where are you going? I - I’ll stop-” 

“We,” Geoff corrected, “are going.” He motioned Awsten toward the door. “Come.” 

“Where?”

“Away from here.” 

That was apparently all Awsten needed to know, because he followed Geoff into first the garage and then the passenger seat of the Lexus. 

“I don’t have shoes on,” Awsten realized as Geoff opened the garage door.

“That does not matter.” 

Awsten busied himself by draping his blanket over his legs and pulling it up to his chin. “Will Tuna be scared?” he asked as they were backing down the driveway, his voice almost inaudible. “Should we bring her with us?”

“She is hardly afraid of anything,” Geoff assured. “The fireworks do not affect her at all.” 

Another one went off just as Geoff finished his sentence, and he quickly leaned forward to turn on his CD player in the hopes that Awsten wouldn’t get upset again. 

[Quiet guitar](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uyLsj0xKCuA) filled the space, and Awsten stared at the display, scanning the information about the song. Then his eyes turned to the skies, watching anxiously for any hint of warning that another noise was coming. 

As they wound down the familiar streets, Awsten curled his body into a ball in the passenger seat, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees. “Where are we going?” he asked quietly.

“Toward Rice.” 

Awsten was silent for several seconds before he asked, “Why?” 

“Because I consider it to be a safe place.”

They drove and drove. Once Geoff noticed that the ride had calmed Awsten considerably, he was sure to take the longest route he could, making the thirty-five minute drive last nearly an hour. 

 

* * *

 

Awsten glanced around curiously as Mr. W pulled into a parking space. They were in front of a tiny strip of closed shops on the dark town square. It had grown so late that the entire town seemed empty, but the small, pink OPEN sign in the window Mr. W had stopped in front of was flickering. Beside it shone a vibrant, triple-scoop ice cream cone made of neon, each scoop a different color.

When Mr. W got out of the car, Awsten remained in his seat, honestly still fairly shaken by the noise of the fireworks back in Lakeview. The whole way here, all he’d been able to see had been blood and brains and dead eyes, the images more vivid in his mind than they had been in months. Awsten ached for Otto. He ached even more for Otto’s parents. But he was glad that he had Mr. W; he was easily the next best thing. 

While Awsten waited in the passenger seat under his blanket, Mr. W went inside and ordered at the counter. He came back to the car three minutes later with two identical waffle bowls, each one overflowing with chocolate ice cream, covered in whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles, and topped with a bright red cherry. 

“Ashton can tie a cherry stem in a knot with his tongue,” Awsten said softly as Mr. W opened the car door and passed him a waffle bowl - the first words he’d spoken since they’d still been in Lakeview.

“Can he, now?” Mr. W asked, a small smile on his face. 

“Yeah. He showed us once. It only took him, like, ten seconds.”

“That sounds impressive.” 

Awsten nodded, dipping a plastic spoon into the ice cream and taking a bite. Rich, creamy chocolate exploded all over his tongue. “It’s good,” he observed softly. “Thanks.” 

“You are quite welcome.”

Silence fell in the car. Mr. W didn’t turn the engine back on, so there was no music, just quiet. They sat in silence for several minutes as they ate their treats. 

“Thanks,” Awsten said again, his gaze unable to move from the last of his now-melty ice cream. Ten minutes had passed, and Mr. W had long since stopped eating, but Awsten intended to devour every last bit. It wasn’t often that he got a cup of ice cream. 

“You are welcome,” Mr. W repeated. 

“No, for like… No one’s ever done this for me before.”

Mr. W glanced over at him just as he looked up, and they made eye contact for the first time in hours. 

Mr. W smiled. Awsten smiled back. 

 

* * *

 

The car was silent on the way home. Geoff took the long route again so that he could be surethat the noise ordinance would be in effect by the time they returned to Lakeview.

A little before the halfway point of the drive, Awsten fell asleep with his head resting against the window and his mouth partway open.

Geoff had always heard that teenagers needed a lot of rest, but he didn’t understand just how much until Awsten had entered his home. It seemed like all he did was eat, watch cartoons, and sleep. That was behavior Geoff likened more to a three year-old than a legal adult. 

But something about driving a sleeping person made Geoff feel important. Awsten wouldn’t have fallen asleep if he didn’t fully trust Geoff and his driving, right? And now it was solely Geoff’s responsibility to deliver Awsten safely home. 

He was careful to avoid potholes and not turn too quickly or do anything that might disrupt Awsten’s rest, and eventually, they arrived back at the house. 

Geoff had hoped that the car stopping would be enough to rouse his student, or at the very least, the sound of the old garage door rumbling open, but apparently, it was not.

“Awsten,” Geoff said softly, but Awsten didn’t move, so Geoff lightly tapped his knee.  
  
Awsten’s eyes flew open, confused and disoriented, before he processed what had happened and sat up, rubbing at his eyes in embarrassment.

“We’re home,” Geoff told him.

Without a word, Awsten stumbled out of the car and went blearily into the house. 

Tuna was waiting at the door for them, and Awsten picked her up but held her out in Geoff’s direction.

“Hello, Tuna,” Geoff said warmly, rubbing the top of her head, and the cat meowed in response. 

Before Geoff could say anything else, Awsten turned away and carried her straight up the stairs and into his bedroom. 

Geoff chuckled to himself. He brewed a cup of tea and, fifteen minutes later, went back up to Awsten’s open room to retrieve the cat from the sleeping boy. 

 

* * *

 

**July 7**  

The clock was nearing twelve AM, and Geoff had just settled into his favorite chair with his latest book. Everyone (even the non-readers, it seemed) had been raving about this novel lately, so, as Lakeview’s resident book nerd, he felt obligated to finally give it a try. The story was interesting enough, but admittedly, Geoff found the main characters to be downright annoying. 

He opened [the novel](https://www.scribd.com/document/251829231/Gone-Girl) to the light blue ribbon he often used as a bookmark and began to read. He had barely gotten a paragraph in, however, before he was interrupted by a persistent sound. 

From upstairs, Geoff could hear Tuna meowing. It was unlike any noise he’d ever heard her make before. Yes, she was a vocal cat, but this was incessant and quite loud. He ignored her for several seconds, but after a while, he was done letting her carry on. Awsten was likely asleep at this hour, and he’d had a long day dealing with Jake at work. 

“Tuna!” Geoff called softly, hoping that the sound of his voice would stop her. 

It did.

She came quickly but quietly down the steps, and as soon as she got to the last one, she sat down and looked right at him. 

“Why ever are you making all this racket?” Geoff asked. 

She just stared at him, the very tip of her tail quivering. 

Geoff humphed to himself and looked down at his novel, but before he could even find his place on the page, she started up again.

“Tuna,” he said sharply, “stop that this instant.”

She didn’t. She rushed over to bump her head into his ankle and then hurried back to the stairs, vocalizing all the way. 

“Tuna!” 

She ran back over to Geoff, smashed into him again, and then darted back to the steps, practically screaming as she did. 

“Tuna, stop!” he said frustratedly, speaking up to be heard over the sound she was making. “What on earth is the matter with you? You have never-”

Just then, a loud, panicked shout came from upstairs. 

Geoff froze.

Tuna bolted toward the noise, but Geoff, who felt chilled to the bone, was rendered immobile. 

“HELP!” came the next cry, and Geoff suddenly realized that it was Awsten yelling. 

Without a word, Geoff dashed up the stairs and into the open bedroom, prepared to try to fight off an intruder, but there was no one. Just Awsten, still in bed with his eyes closed. Tuna was pressed against the boy, meowing again and butting her head into him over and over.

“NO!” Awsten begged at full volume, and Geoff realized - he was still sound asleep. He was having a nightmare.

“Awsten,” Geoff said, but if all of Tuna’s efforts hadn’t woken him, it was clear that a soft voice wasn’t going to be enough. He moved forward quickly and set a hand on Awsten’s shoulder, giving it a little shake. “Awsten, you must wake up,” he directed.

Nothing happened. 

As Geoff’s eyes adjusted to the low light, he began to notice that even in his sleep, Awsten looked petrified. 

“No, PLEASE! Please!” Awsten shouted, curling in on himself, and Geoff reached forward with both hands, setting them on Awsten’s shoulders and squeezing. After a few vigorous shakes, Awsten’s eyes flew open, and he bolted up in bed. 

Geoff took a few steps back, but he didn’t look away from his student for one moment. 

Awsten was panting for breath, looking around in confusion, his eyes wide and wild.

Tuna and Geoff were both silent as they stared at him.

And then - 

Awsten burst into tears, clawing at the comforter and drawing it up around himself as it for protection. 

“Oh, no,” Geoff murmured to himself. Then, a little louder, he said softly, “Awsten, it’s alright. You’re safe.” 

Awsten shook his head rapidly. “No…”

“Yes. You are in my home. You are safe.”

“No, he - he hurt y-you and Otto and Travis!” Awsten protested frantically.

“No one is hurt,” Geoff assured him. “We are all alright.”

“N-no,” Awsten urgently repeated, sobbing as he spoke. 

“It was merely a dream,” Geoff soothed. 

“He hurt you!” Awsten said again, still terrified as his clouded brain tried to process what was going on. “Are you okay?”

“I am fine, Awsten. I was reading downstairs. Nothing is-”

Awsten held an arm out, and Geoff, unsure of what he wanted, slid forward. 

“Wh-”

Awsten grabbed at Geoff, yanking him closer, where he flung both arms around him and hid his face in Geoff’s stomach, continuing to sob. 

“Oh,” Geoff whispered in surprise. He’d thought that perhaps Awsten wanted to examine him for injuries. One of his hands lifted to wrap around the back of Awsten’s head. “It’s alright. You were only dreaming.”

“No, it was real!” he insisted, his terrified voice muffled in Geoff’s shirt.

Geoff exhaled lightly and used his other arm to secure Awsten to him in a hug. “Dreams can feel quite real,” he agreed. 

Awsten nodded tearfully against him, and Geoff was reminded of the day he’d realized that Awsten was practically a lost child. He closed his eyes and stayed still, letting Awsten hug him as tightly as he needed. 

“You are very frightened,” Geoff observed softly.

“They keep getting worse and worse,” Awsten confessed, choking a little on a particularly thick sob. “Further apart, but worse. He keeps playing m-mind games with me and trying to make me…” He started to cry harder.

“Awsten, you needn’t expl-”

“He makes me choose! And I - I fucking hate it!”

Cautiously, Geoff asked, “Who are you talking about?”

“Michael!” 

He sighed heavily. That’s what he’d been afraid of. “What does he make you choose?”

“Who he kills!” Awsten cried. “And he’s going to kill everyone, but he makes me choose anyway! And I keep telling him to just kill me instead, but he _won’t_!” 

Awsten’s fingers dug into Geoff’s back as he cried, and although Geoff was perilously uncomfortable with the entire situation, he stayed still. Awsten needed to be embraced more than Geoff wanted to step away. 

“Shh,” Geoff said gently, holding Awsten closer. He felt a hot, burning anger toward Michael in that moment. This all could have been avoided if he hadn’t been so selfish and violent and ridiculous. But then the anger shifted as Geoff remembered - if he himself had spoken to someone about the essay Michael had handed in, or if he hadn’t assigned that one goddamned reading…

“I’m s-sorry, Mr. W,” Awsten sobbed. 

“Hush,” Geoff murmured, lightly patting his back. “You’ve done nothing wrong.” 

“I’m sorry,” Awsten repeated hopelessly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” 

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” Geoff told him again. It was he himself who was at fault. Why couldn’t Awsten see that? 

“I should’ve s-stopped h-him…” 

Geoff was going to protest when he was interrupted by an insistent, “Mrow!” 

“Tuna…” Awsten sat up slightly, swiping at his face, and reached for the cat. She climbed onto his lap and let him embrace her, and she didn’t even object when he picked her up and leaned back into Geoff’s middle, sandwiching her between them. 

With a heavy breath out, Awsten closed his eyes. 

“It’s alright,” Geoff promised. “Only a dream.”

Awsten nodded, and for several moments, Geoff stood still, listening as Awsten’s frantic breaths quieted and slowed to a more normal pace. 

Eventually, Awsten sat up and dried his eyes, still keeping Tuna secured in one of his arms. He sniffed loudly and wiped his nose on his shirt sleeve. 

Geoff stood awkwardly, unsure of whether he should ask Awsten if he needed anything or just dismiss himself, but then Awsten spoke. 

“C-can you, like… talk about something?”

Geoff blinked, confused.

“To distract me. Can you just tell me something?”

“What kind of something?”

“I don’t know. Anything.” 

Geoff nodded. “Very well.” As Awsten wiped his nose again and adjusted Tuna on his lap so that he could hug her more efficiently, Geoff went over to the desk chair and took a seat. “According to my grandmother,” he began softly, “there is a cottage on the other side of the woods. It would take a few hours for us to walk there, but at the same time, that means that it is only a few hours away.” 

As Geoff spoke, Tuna tried multiple times to jump off of Awsten’s lap, but the teenager kept a firm grip on her until she gave up and slumped into him.

“She says that it is straight back through the trees and a little to the right, and that no matter the season, there are always flowers growing around it - pink, yellow, and orange in the springtime and summer, and purple when the weather turns cold. There is a clear stream beside it so there is always water for drinking and cooking and bathing, and a myriad of berries grow on the bushes all around, so there is ample food for eating as well.”

“Who lives there?” Awsten asked, his voice raw.

“No one. Or so she claims. She lived in this house for many, many years, and she says that no one has lived there for as long as she lived here.” 

“Why not?”

Geoff shrugged one shoulder. 

“I bet it’s nice there.” 

Geoff smiled. “Yes. She says it is.” 

“She’s been there?”

“Well, she likes to say that she is the one who discovered it, but-”

“That’s kinda cool. Can we go see it?” 

Geoff let out a little laugh. “Awsten, I do regr-”

Tuna meowed quietly and snuggled into Awsten’s chest, drawing both men’s attention. 

Awsten sighed, scratching behind her ears. The room was quiet for a moment, and then he mumbled, “I’m never fucking sleeping again.”

“Oh, no,” Geoff replied quickly. “Don’t you recall what happened last time you stopped sleeping?”

“And the time after that,” Awsten admitted, an empty smile on his face. “Yeah. But I didn’t have nightmares.” 

“Well, that won’t do. You need sleep.” 

“Hm,” Awsten muttered noncommittally. “What time is it?” 

“A few minutes past midnight now, I assume.” 

Awsten drew the back of his wrist under his nose and stared, eyes unfocused, at the half-lit hallway outside his room. 

“Would you like a cup of tea?” 

Awsten shook his head. 

“A… a soda?” 

Awsten snorted in amusement, breaking the tension. “No. I just need to… forget about all that.” 

“Alright.” 

He looked away. “Um, do you have, like, a laptop or something I can borrow?” he asked quietly, unable to make eye contact. 

“Yes. For what?”

“YouTube.” 

Geoff nodded. “Very well. I will bring it in just a moment.” 

“No - I, um. I don’t wanna stay in here right now.” 

“Alright. It’s downstairs, if you’d like to come get it yourself.” 

“Kay.” 

As they walked through the kitchen for Geoff to retrieve a key ring from his bedroom, Geoff noticed that Awsten was clad in green, plaid pajama bottoms and a worn white t-shirt - so worn, in fact, that it had several holes in the sides. He didn’t comment, and Awsten didn’t seem to have caught sight of him looking. 

“One moment, please,” Geoff said, stopping Awsten in the kitchen and disappearing first into his room and then behind one of the locked doors.

A moment later, they were both in the living room, the laptop in front of Awsten and Geoff with his book back in his hand. As Geoff found his place again, Awsten stared blankly at the site's home page.

“You could watch a TED Talk,” Geoff suggested. 

“What?” 

“A TED Talk,” Geoff repeated, enunciating a little more in case Awsten had misheard him. 

Awsten looked at him in confusion.

“They’re lectures, but I believe they’re quite appealing to the general public. They make them for all people to enjoy.”

Awsten made face. “What are they about?” he asked skeptically.

“They have them on all sorts of topics. Is there anything specific that you’re interested in?”

“Um…”

“Outer space, engineering, psychology, language, genetics, sustainability, science experiments, mathematics, food-”

“Do they have ones about the bottom of the ocean?” Awsten interrupted.

"Oh, I’m sure that they do,” Geoff replied, holding his hand out for the laptop. 

Awsten passed it to him. 

“What would you like to know about it?”

“Anything.” He paused, thinking. “See if you can find some weird-ass fish down there.”

“Alright. One moment.” 

Geoff spent a few seconds typing on the keyboard and then turned the laptop [back toward Awsten](https://www.ted.com/talks/deep_ocean_mysteries_and_wonders/transcript#t-387293). 

 

_You know things like corals; you've seen plenty of corals, those of you who've been to the beach, snorkeling, know corals are an amazing place to go - full of life, some big animals, small animals, some nice, some dangerous, sharks, whales, all that stuff. They need to be protected from humanity. They're great places. But what you probably don't know is in the very deep part of the ocean, we have volcanic eruptions._

 

Interested, Geoff glanced over at the screen.

 

_Most volcanoes on Earth are at the bottom of the sea - more than 80 percent. And we actually have fire, fire deep inside the ocean, going on right now._

 

A grainy video of fire going underwater started playing, and Awsten’s mouth dropped open. “Whoa!” 

Geoff gave him a knowing smile. 

 

_In this place, the ocean floor, the rocks actually turn to liquid. So you actually have waves on the ocean floor._

 

“Oh my _god_!” Awsten exclaimed as he watched footage of what the man was talking about.

 

_You’d say nothing could live there, but when we look in detail, even there, in the deepest, darkest places on Earth, we find life, which tells us that life really wants to happen._

 

Awsten’s face lit up as videos came on the screen of glowing jellyfish, massive giant squid, and some things Awsten had never even heard of. When it ended, he pushed the computer back toward Geoff.

“Do another one!” he cried.

_Just like a child._

Geoff took the computer back. “Alright. One moment, please.” He pulled up [another video](https://www.ted.com/talks/david_gallo_shows_underwater_astonishments), this one by the same man but focused more on the creatures than the ocean itself. 

“Bi - o - lu - min - es - ence,” Awsten read slowly off the screen. “What’s that?” But before Geoff could answer, Awsten gasped. “Cool!” 

Geoff smiled and went back to his book.

“That was the tightest thing I’ve ever seen,” Awsten declared when it ended, but Geoff frowned in confusion.

“These are much shorter than usual.”

“I don’t care! Can we watch another one?”

Twelve thirty AM passed, then one. A little after one fifteen, a video ended, but there was no “Hmmm, which one now?” following it.

Geoff turned his head and saw Awsten sound asleep on the sofa. 

Since the computer had fallen silent, Geoff took his time reading, finishing one chapter and then the next before standing up to carefully remove the laptop from Awsten’s legs. He closed it quietly, tucking it under his arm and slipping out of the room, turning off the light as he went. 

 

* * *

 

_"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts…_

_“Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy- two."_

_A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Harry could see Draco Malfoy banging his goblet on the table. It was a sickening sight._

_"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."_

_The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little._

_"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes... First -- to Mr. Ronald Weasley..."_

_Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with a bad sunburn._

_"...for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."_

_Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"_

_At last there was silence again._

_"Second -- to Miss Hermione Granger... for the use of cool logic in the 247 face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."_

_Hermione buried her face in her arms; Harry strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves -- they were a hundred points up._

_"Third -- to Mr. Harry Potter..." said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. “For pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."_

_The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points -- exactly the same as Slytherin. They had tied for the house cup -- if only Dumbledore had given Harry just one more point._

_Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent._

_"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."_

_Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood up to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. He had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before._

_Harry, still cheering, nudged Ron in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if he'd just had the Body-Bind Curse put on him._

_"Which means, Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration." He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place._

_Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile. He caught Harry's eye and Harry knew at once that Snape's feelings toward him hadn't changed one jot. This didn't worry Harry. It seemed as though life would be back to normal next year, or as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts._

_It was the best evening of Harry's life, better than winning at Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls. He would never, ever forget tonight._

 

“Mr. W?” Awsten asked quietly after Geoff finished the last pages of the book. 

“Yes?”

“Can I see that?” 

“Of course. It is yours.” He handed the novel to his student. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Yeah. It was really good,” came Awsten’s soft answer as he flipped back a page or two from the end. “I just wanted to look at this part again.” 

Geoff started to get up in order to fetch a fresh cup of tea, but Awsten’s words stopped him.

“It just kind of reminded me of, like…” He cleared his throat.

“Yes?” Geoff asked, sitting back down.

With his eyes stuck on the page, he asked, “Is it okay if I talk about what happened at school? Just for a second.”

Instantly, Geoff was filled with dread. Still, he replied, “Of course.”

Awsten nodded. “This part, where Dumbledore gives Neville the points…” He held the book out to Geoff. “Can you read it again?”

“Alright…” Geoff scanned the page until he found the place Awsten was referring to, and then he read aloud, “Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent. ‘There are all kinds of courage,’ said Dumbledore, smiling. ‘It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I th-’”

“That,” Awsten said, his voice somehow sounding a little different than usual. He looked directly up at Geoff. “I did that.” 

Geoff nodded slowly. He’d thought about that line well before they’d gotten to it, and he had wondered if Awsten would pick up on that similarity as well. “Yes, you did.” 

“I didn’t do a good job, but, um.” He shrugged one shoulder. “It’s not like we hung out all the time, but I still knew him. He and Otto were friends, so I’d see him sometimes. And, like. In your class.” 

Geoff nodded. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job. I tried to stop him. I really fucking tried…” Awsten bravely attempted to keep his emotions in check. “Do you miss him?”

“Very much,” Geoff replied honestly. 

“I don’t know if I do. Rian says that’s okay, but I feel bad. I feel like I’m either supposed to hate him or miss him. I think I hate him.” 

“That’s quite understandable,” Geoff told him. 

Awsten looked at him, clearly hoping for an elaboration.

“He put you through quite a lot, Awsten. No one deserves that, especially not you. You had your hands full with plenty already.” 

For several seconds, Geoff was convinced that Awsten was about to being crying.

But he didn’t. He sat still and stared at the coffee table for a long time without speaking. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry for bringing it up. You’re just, like. You’re the only person left that I can talk to.” 

“There is no need to apologize for that,” Geoff told him softly. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Awsten added, “and I’m so glad you let me stay here. I would be alone if it wasn’t for you. When I came here, I didn’t…” Awsten trailed off.

“It's alright. You are very welcome.”

“No, you don’t get it,” Awsten told him, anger seeping into his voice. “I wasn’t gonna stay; I was planning to run away. I don’t know where, but… I was coming to say goodbye to you.”

“What?” Geoff asked in concern.

“Yeah. Something bad happened, and - you should hate me.”

“Awsten, I could never hate you.”

“People say that,” he said emptily, “but they don’t really mean it. Shit happens, and everything changes. There’s no such thing as family, Mr. W.”

“Whatever do you mean? Of course there is.”

He shook his head.

Geoff frowned. “Awsten, everything will be alright. You do know that, don’t you?”

“It won’t. It’s never going to be alright again.”

"It will be. Someday.”

“No, it won’t,” Awsten countered, his tone very matter-of-fact. “Everything is ruined, and it’s all my fault.” 

Geoff murmured, “I’m sure you haven’t done anything that can’t be fixed.”

He shook his head. “It’s too fucking late.” 

“No, it’s not. It’s never too late, Awsten.”

His eyes flashed with rage. “Can you bring people back from the dead, Mr. W?” he demanded. “Can make it so that everything that happened at school never happened? Can you build a fucking time machine and send me back to the beginning of the summer so I can take back the biggest mistake I ever made?! Huh? _No!_ You can’t!” 

“I am content to continue this discussion, Awsten, but please stop yelling at me.”

Awsten ignored this. “It’s too late, and I can’t even fucking say goodbye!” 

“Shh, alright. Take a deep breath…”

“I didn’t get to say goodbye!” he yelled again. He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.

Geoff hadn’t the faintest idea what to do, what to say, or even how to comfort Awsten. “There, there,” he hummed awkwardly. 

“I’m sorry,” Awsten mumbled into his palms. “I know I fucked up, but - but I’m sorry, Mr. W, please, can you tell them I’m sorry? Tell them I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry…”

“Hush now… Everything will be alright.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” 

It took Geoff turning the TV on for Awsten to calm down. They sat side by side watching Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends together for several minutes. Once the episode ended, Awsten muttered, “I have to go to work soon.”

“Perhaps you should stay home this afternoon,” Geoff suggested cautiously.

Awsten shook his head, went up to his bedroom and, for the first time, shut the door. 

“Oh, dear,” Geoff sighed to himself. What on earth was he supposed to do? This was far beyond anything he knew how to handle. 

Perhaps it was time to start researching trauma again.

But first, Geoff went into his bedroom to make a phone call. 

 

* * *

 

** July 27 **

“Wow, I feel like I was just here,” Awsten confessed as Mr. W slowed the car to a stop in a parking space. He started to get out, but Mr. W didn’t move. Awsten frowned at him, standing on the pavement with the car door open.

Mr. W looked at him in confusion. “What is the matter?”

“Aren’t you coming?” he asked.

“Oh, no, I’m - I’m afraid I’m terribly underdressed…”

Awsten snorted. “No, you’re not.” He put on a slightly pouty face. “Please, will you come with me? Pleeeeease? You’re just gonna sit out here and wait, aren’t you?”

“I was going to work on some things for school.”

Awsten crossed his arms over his chest. “All you ever do is ‘work on some things for school.’ We came all this way!” 

Mr. W sighed. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” 

“Yessss,” Awsten whispered with a smile. 

Together, they walked through the doors. 

Zakk was waiting for them inside. “Hey!” he grinned as Awsten jogged across the space for a hug. “Dude, it’s so good to see you. And you’re a blonde!” 

“Uh-huh,” Awsten smiled.

“Are you having more fun?”

“Less,” Awsten admitted with a laugh. 

“Aw. Hopefully today can be an exception to that.”

“Yeah.”

“Everybody’s in their usual seats, so just - go ahead.” Zakk motioned into the sanctuary. 

“Thanks.”  


“Thank you, Zakk,” Awsten heard Mr. W say, but he didn’t stop to hear the rest of their conversation. He was too eager to spend some time with his friends. 

“Is that Awsten?” he heard. 

He smiled to himself and kept walking.

“No, it ain’t. No purple hair.” 

At the sound of Travis’ voice, Awsten had to look over in their direction. 

There was a gasp, and then both Ashton and Travis were flying toward him. 

“AWSTEN!”  
  
The whole church went quiet when the boys yelled, but Awsten didn’t even notice; he was preoccupied with bracing for impact.

“You really came back!” Ashton cried joyfully, hugging him as tightly as he could. 

Awsten hugged him back with one arm and squeezed Travis close with the other. He couldn’t wipe the grin off of his face. “Of course I came back. I promised, didn’t I?” 

“Awsten’s home!” Travis announced happily, and then Awsten caught sight of a golden bun out of the corner of his eye. 

“I missed you so fucking much,” Awsten murmured into Travis’ ear.

“I missed you, too! Every day, lots of times! Jawn said you wouldn’t come back, not never, but you did!” 

“I promised you I would,” Awsten repeated. 

“I know. I believed you!” 

Awsten chuckled. “Thank you.” 

Jon came down to see him, and then Big T, and then a couple of the kids from bible study, too. When they all cleared away, Lucas was left waiting a few feet away. 

Awsten made eye contact with him, exhaled in relief, and smiled. He went to him for a hug without a word. 

“It’s good to see you,” Lucas told him softly, holding him close. 

“You, too. I called to see if I could come, and Zakk said yes, but we decided to surprise you.” 

“I was very surprised,” Lucas confessed, and then he pulled back to study Awsten’s face. “You look older.” 

Awsten laughed. “It’s only been like a month.” 

“And you already look older.” Lucas tilted his head. “The blonde is nice.”

“Thanks. I needed a change.”

Lucas smiled and then motioned back toward their usual row. “Jawn’s waiting to see you. I think he's in shock.” 

Awsten looked over and laughed when he saw the expression on Jawn's face.

“You and Mr. W are welcome to sit with us,” Lucas added.

“Okay,” Awsten smiled, “thanks.”

“I’m sure Travis would love for you to sit beside him.”

“I’d be happy to,” Awsten responded, and then he started up to the front. 

“Oh my god,” Jawn said, staring at him but not moving from his chair even as Awsten grew closer.

Awsten grinned. 

“No, oh my god. Oh my god. You’re not actually here…” Jawn said, almost pleading.

“Get up, dude,” Awsten ordered with a laugh, and Jawn got to his feet and threw his arms around his old roommate. 

“I _am_ actually here,” Awsten laughed. “Promise. You can punch me back today if you don’t believe me; I’ll give you a free pass.” 

“No, oh my god,” Jawn repeated, squeezing Awsten tight. “I prayed for this. Awsten, I actually fucking prayed for you to come back, and you’re here…” 

“Don’t swear in the church,” Awsten ordered him jokingly. 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

Awsten laughed again, and they broke apart. “It’s really good to see you, man.”

“Yeah, you, too.” He slid his hand into his pockets. 

“You finish school?”

He nodded. “On Friday. I’m actually, um. My birthday’s on the 29th, so you caught me just in time.”

“Yeah, I remembered it was around then. I was hoping I wasn’t too late.”

“You just made it. Uh, Ashton and Travis are leaving soon, too, actually, so it's great you came when you did.” 

Just then, Awsten noticed a boy peering at him through blue eyes. “Hi,” he said. 

The boy waved but didn’t speak.

Jawn glanced over. “Oh - that’s Luke, my new roommate.” 

“Oh, new roommate, huh?” Awsten asked, and a smile came over his face. “I’m his old roommate,” he explained, turning back to the boy. “I punched him in the face. Don’t do that.”

The kid raised his eyebrows. 

“It was pretty bad,” Jawn supplied, and Awsten laughed.

“Yeah, Lucas handed my ass to me.” 

Zakk, who had drifted over with Mr. W, loudly cleared his throat at the expletive. 

“Sorry!” Awsten chirped, although he didn’t feel bad at all. He noticed Mr. W lean down and say something to Luke, and Luke replied. Awsten wondered if they were introducing themselves now that Mr. W had greeted everyone else. (He’d noticed Travis earlier bowling into Mr. W for a hug and then excitedly holding up two fingers and waving them around.)

“Don’t apologize!” Jawn told him. “You’re a free man! He’s not in charge of you anymore.”

“Yeah, but he was for so long. And it wasn't so bad. I wish I could come back sometimes,” he shrugged.

“No, you don’t!” Jawn protested, seemingly taken aback by the statement.

“Sometimes,” Awsten repeated, and before he could say anything else, Jon stepped up to the small stage and they found their seats. Awsten was sandwiched between Jawn and Travis, and Mr. W sat on the end with Lucas. 

Awsten tried to wave at Mr. W a few minutes into the sermon, but he was so focused on the message that he didn’t even notice.

 

* * *

“So,” the man in the baseball cap said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together, “good morning!”

“Good morning,” everyone replied.

“If you’re new here, welcome to FutureFaith. If not, welcome back. Either way, we are so glad you’re here this morning. I gotta warn you, though, guys - today, we’re gonna be talking about a zombie apocalypse.”

Geoff realized that Awsten was right; Geoff was far from underdressed. And with those words from the man in charge, he understood why Awsten had been keen to return to this church even though he’d wrinkled his nose at the thought of attending one of Lakeview’s three services. No one at those would ever dream of wearing jeans and a t-shirt to attend, let alone preach. And shouldn’t the zombie apocalypse considered blasphemy? Geoff settled in, ready to be surprised.

“Okay, so, pretend the apocalypse is starting, like, yesterday. Doesn’t matter how or why. It’s every man for himself, so we need supplies. Where do we go?”

“Costco!” Awsten called out, and both Geoff and Lucas shook their heads in amusement. 

“Costco!” the man replied, jotting Awsten’s reply on a white board. “Good. Excellent. What are we getting?”

The congregation started calling out answers.

“Water!”

“Guns!”

“Toilet paper!”

“Food!”

“First aid kits!” 

“Good, good, this is all great,” the man praised as he scribbled it all down. Eventually, they’d gathered a list of twenty or so supplies, and he asked, “Okay, what next?”

“Transportation!” someone called out. 

“Awesome! What kind?”

“Car!” a few people yelled at the same time someone else called, “Truck!”

“Okay, so something on wheels that needs gas, right?” the man confirmed.

There was a general nod. He wrote, _Gas. Batteries. Spare tires._

“What else? Are we sleeping in the car?”

“We need a shelter,” Ashton decided. 

“Good, okay,” the man in the baseball cap nodded. “Shelter. Why?”

“If you sleep in the car or the van or whatever,” Jawn piped up, “the zombies can break the glass and attack you inside and eat your brains.” 

The man chuckled. “Exactly. And we don’t want that to happen, do we?”

“No,” several people, including Travis, answered.

“So, what kind of a shelter do we want?” 

“Brick,” someone suggested. 

“Okay, yes. Sturdy, right? What else?”

“With running water and electricity!”

“What I’m hearing is, more than just some walls. Maybe with some things that can help us to survive longer. What about a roof, do we need a roof?”

“Yes!”

“Okay. So we want to be covered.” 

“On all sides!” 

“Covered… on all… sides,” the man echoed as he scrawled it across the board. “Do we want a big shelter, or a small shelter?” 

“Big.”

“Big. Sounds good to me. And who can come in? Anybody?”

“Yes!”

“Anybody?” he repeated, turning to face the small congregation. “Even the zombies?”

“No zombies!” Travis cried worriedly. 

“So humans can come in, but not zombies?”

“Animals,” Geoff said to himself, and it caught Lucas’ ear. Lucas repeated it for the preacher to hear.  
  
“Excellent, good,” he said, and he added it to the board.

Geoff and Lucas shared a smile. 

“So… Hmm, okay. What kind of shelter do we _not_ want?” 

Again, the crowd was eager to reply.

“Something falling apart!” 

“Something open!”

A thoughtful look crossed the preacher's face. “Okay, so what about… a tent?”

“No!” came the consensus.

“Why not?” he asked. “That’s not falling apart, and it’s closed on all sides.”

“They could tear right through it,” a girl noted. 

“Cause it’s not…?” the man prompted.

Several words were thrown out at the same time - solid, sturdy, strong, secure. 

“Exactly. Good. You guys are on top of it.” He capped the marker with a smile. “Remind me to call all of you guys if this ever happens.” 

There was a ripple of gentle laughter throughout the room.

“I’m not playing. I’m putting every last one of you on speed dial.” He pointed. “Eduardo, I’m looking at you, man.” 

There was a whoop and some more laughter from the center of the room as well as from the boys in the Peace and Purpose row.

“Okay, so what if I told you there was a huge, brick tower hidden back in the woods away from everything? It’s in great shape. No damage anywhere. Nothing around it, no zombies anywhere in the area. In fact - it’s zombie-proof. There’s running water. There’s light, there’s radio signal, there’s _heating and air conditioning_. This is the place to be. What do you say, are you coming?”

“Yes!” 

“Yeah. I would, too. It sounds great, doesn’t it? Proverbs 18:10 says, ‘The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous run to it and are safe.’”

Geoff blinked; he’d been so wrapped up in the zombie apocalypse planning that he’d completely forgotten that he was sitting in church. 

“When you’re afraid, what kind of tower do you want for safety? You want a strong, sturdy tower, right? Somewhere with a roof to cover you and walls that aren’t gonna be breached by anything. You want don’t just want somewhere the bad guys can’t break into - you want somewhere they can’t even _find._ And that’s what God is.” 

Geoff pursed his lips. He mind drifted back toward blasphemy.

“God’s not going to spring a leak, and he’s not going to cave in. He doesn’t have floors crumbling from water damage or ceiling beams covered in mold. He is _solid_. Guys, this is the God who the devil fears.”

_Whom_ , Geoff mentally corrected. 

“This is the God who heals the sick, who sent his son to die, who _knows you_ inside and out. He’s sitting there - that tower is _right there_ waiting for you, calling out to you. So why aren’t you going to it?” 

Geoff swallowed. 

“Why are you out there fending off zombies with a little, rusty pocketknife? Why are you sleeping outside in the rain? Is it cause the shelter is too far away and you’re worried about the trip? Is it cause you’re afraid of the poison ivy?” The preacher shook his head. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather get some blisters and sore muscles or a little poison ivy on the way to a fortress that’s going to protect me for the rest of _eternity_ than never go at all. Huh?”

“Amen,” someone murmured in the row behind Geoff.

“Or maybe you’re scared you’ll make that journey, that you’ll get all the way out there, and it won’t be everything you hoped it would be. Maybe what you heard isn’t true and it’s rundown, or it’s not even there at all. My question to you is, if you keep hearing all these things, and if you’re curious enough to wonder, then what’s the harm in checking it out? Spoiler alert: it’s gonna be bigger and better than you dreamed. I promise you. I _promise_ you, guys. I promise. He will rock your world.” 

The preacher shook his head. “When you pray, and you end your prayer with ‘In Jesus’ name,’ do you know what you’re doing? You are calling upon the highest name, the highest power in the whole universe. You’re calling on that protective, everlasting tower. Like I always say, God’s not gonna answer every prayer - he’s not a genie, okay? You’ve heard me say it a trillion times, I know. I know. Trust me. But listen - he has a plan, and he’s gonna use those fifteen-foot thick walls to protect it. No one’s getting in.”

He held up a hand and started ticking things off on his fingers. “Tornado-proof. Flood-proof. Fireproof. Waterproof. Hail-proof, snow-proof, earthquake-proof. Landslide-proof. Monsoon-proof! Tsunami-proof, people! Nothing is getting through!”

“Amen.”

“You know what else isn’t getting through? Satan. Sin.”

The room was entirely silent. 

“Your weaknesses? God is stronger than those. The devil? Yeah. God’s stronger. Your friends who are trying to lead you down the wrong path? God is stronger. The guilt that you feel from that thing that happened in March that you’re trying to forget all about?”

Geoff’s stomach dropped.

“God remembers every single detail, and he’s not afraid of it. Not even a little bit. You know why? Cause he is a hundred times stronger. What about the issues in your family? The way you think inside at nighttime when you’re all alone and you’re not so sure that life is worth living anymore? What’s stronger? Those trials? Or the God of the universe?”

Geoff’s swallowed again, but this time, he struggled a bit to do so. This was… Wow. Too close for comfort.

“What about illness and broken relationships? What about death? Death is final, right?”

_Yes_ , Geoff thought.

“Wrong. God is eternal, and when we go to Heaven, so are we. God is bigger than death, stronger than death. First Corinthians fifteen fifty-five - ‘Death, where is your sting? Grave, where is your victory? The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God. He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.’”

At the quotation, Geoff suddenly felt as though he were back in college. Should he be taking notes?

“No zombies allowed - this is just for the righteous. So they’re not even getting near it. But you? You can go right in. He wants you to. He’s waiting for you, right this minute.

“No matter what is going on in your life, run to him. Just try it. Try it, guys, I’m telling you. Go find that giant secret tower in the woods, and go inside. If you’re looking and you haven’t found it yet, keep looking. It’s there. If you’re worried you’ll get up to the outside and be locked out because of your sin - finding it at all is a massive step in the right direction. Keep calling on Jesus’ name. You know what it says in Matthew - seek and you shall find. Knock and the door shall be opened to you.” 

 

* * *

 

“That song’s stuck in my head,” Awsten complained as they walked from the Peace and Purpose house into Geoff’s car. 

“Which?” Geoff inquired.

Awsten hummed to himself for a few seconds and then [half-sang](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q24z4XcJxnM), “Something-something reigns forever, he is a friend of mine. The God of angel armies is always by my siiiiide!” 

The car beeped as Geoff unlocked it, and they both climbed in. 

“Do you believe it?” Awsten wondered.

“Believe what?”

“God.” 

Geoff blinked in surprise; what a rude inquiry. “I’m not sure the question is that simple.”

“Sure it is. You either believe or you don’t.” 

“Frankly, I haven’t the faintest idea.” He turned the key in the ignition. “And you? Do you believe in him?”

“I still don’t know.”

Geoff laughed out loud at the irony. Teenagers.

As Awsten chattered about the presents he’d brought the boys and the funny drawing Jawn had hurriedly crafted for him while they’d all been sitting around the kitchen table and the impromptu puppet show he’d put on for Travis, Geoff’s mind remained several steps behind. 

_You hold the whole world in your hands_ , they’d sung, all standing in that room together. _You are faithful… Whom shall I fear? The God of angel armies is always by my side._

And then came Awsten’s question, so innocent and curious. So simple. _Do you believe it?_

Geoff didn’t know.


	4. August

**August 1**

Awsten barely registered Rian’s surprised expression as he barged in through the door, crossed the room, and dropped down onto the couch. 

“Oh - wow. Okay. Hi,” Rian said, looking him over.

“Hi,” Awsten panted. He was aware that there was sweat running down his face, but for some reason, he’d thought maybe Rian wouldn’t have noticed it. Rian had definitely noticed, though, so Awsten explained, “The lady at the desk said to just come back here.”

“You’re really sweaty.”

“Uh-huh.”

Rian eyed the cloth couch and then looked back up at his patient. “Have you been running?”

Awsten shook his head.

“Okay… Well, before we get into why you're dripping, you should know that I was about to cancel your standing appointment,” Rian informed him. “You’ve been a no-show for almost a month. What happened?” 

“Life,” Awsten replied with a false smile. “That and I just didn’t want to come.” 

“Why?”

Awsten shrugged carelessly. “Shit got bad.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“Yeah, and you’ll make me talk about it.” 

Rian hummed. “Not necessarily. But it would be good to work through some problems, right?”

Awsten didn’t respond.

“Okay. Well, why don’t you go to the water fountain and cool off for a minute, and then we can start?”

“No, I’m already late,” Awsten protested.

“I’ll give you your full hour. I have a feeling there’s going to be a lot to talk about.”

Awsten frowned but stood up regardless. “Thanks. I rode my bike all the way here, so.” 

“Your bike?” Rian repeated, his eyebrows arching. “All the way from Lakeview?”

Awsten nodded and then walked back out of the room. 

A few minutes later, once what felt like a gallon of crystal clear water was sloshing around in his stomach, he collapsed back down onto the couch. “Okay, now I’m ready.”

“Is that better?” Rian asked. He’d moved from his desk into his normal chair, and he had his notepad ready to go.

“Yeah.” 

“Good. Before we really get into it, I’d like to hear an explanation. Tell me about biking here.” 

“What about it?” 

“Why you did it.” 

“Oh. I just didn’t have a ride.”

“And why is that?” 

Awsten shrugged. 

“Your mom couldn’t bring you?”

“No.” 

“Or Mr. Wood?”

“Nope.”

Rian looked confused. “Why not?” 

“Cause she just couldn’t.” Awsten wiped at his sweaty temple. “Um, before we go any further you should probably know that I’m, like. I’m not living with them anymore.” 

“I see. Does that have anything to do with why you haven’t been coming to therapy?”

“Yeah, I guess.” 

“And why aren’t you there anymore?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Awsten dismissed, looking away. 

“Well, humor me. I’m curious.” 

“You can’t fix it.” 

“What does that mean?”

“You can’t fix it, so there’s no point in talking about it.” 

“Well,” Rian said, “I’m not exactly sure what we’re talking about, but in my experience, the benefit doesn’t always come from me ‘fixing’ things. Oftentimes, it comes from my clients talking through things and sometimes figuring new things out or making peace with what’s going on.”

Awsten snorted.

“Can you give me some details?”

Awsten shook his head, suddenly regretting coming to Rian’s office at all.

“About anything?”

He shook his head again. 

“Alright. Then can I ask some questions and get myself a little caught upon what you’ve been up to?”

“Do I have to answer all of them?” Awsten asked. 

“Only what you’re comfortable with. The rules haven’t changed.”

“Okay then.” 

“Okay,” Rian echoed. “Let’s see. So you’re not living with the Woods?”

“Right.” 

“Where _are_ you living?”

“With Mr. W.” 

Rian’s pen started moving. “How did that come about?”

Awsten just shrugged.

“How is it going?”

“It’s fine.” 

“Do you have your own room?” 

“Yeah. I have two rooms now, actually.” His bedroom and the room he spent his days off lounging in with Tuna. Across the hall from Awsten’s space was the room with all the sunflower decorations. It overlooked the backyard and received a healthy dose of sunlight from dawn until dusk. Now that it was the peak of summer, it was too hot to hang around outside, which meant that the lake was sunburn central and therefore not the best place to be, and Awsten often got bored with the TV downstairs. He missed video games more than he’d ever admit, but at least the acoustics in the sunflower room were good. He sang and talked out loud to himself while Tuna napped in the sun spots on the hardwood floor.

“Are you paying rent?”

“No, but I pay for food. Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” Rian echoed, starting to write again.

“If I go to Carson’s, I - Carson’s is our grocery store. If I go to Carson’s, I pay and we share the food. If he goes, same arrangement but he pays.” Awsten shrugged. “I know it’s kind of weird, but I think he’s like, super rich, so, um.” 

Rian’s expression was strangely neutral as his eyes met Awsten’s.

“What?”

Rian just stared at him.

And then it clicked.  “No!” Awsten cried. “No, no, it’s not - it’s not like that!” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” Awsten could feel hurt written across his face at Rian’s assumption, but he didn’t try to conceal it. “He’s a good person! He would never - and _I_ would never - we’re not-” Awsten spluttered desperately. He settled on, “Ew!”

“Okay,” Rian nodded. “I believe you.” 

Awsten exhaled heavily. “Good. That's fucking gross.” 

A beat passed in silence.

“Now that we’ve established what it isn’t,” Rian said, “what _is_ your relationship with him like?” 

“Um… I don’t know. We eat dinner together, and he helps me with stuff I need help with. Like tax forms. And he taught me how to make jelly out of peaches, and he showed me a bunch of stuff he found in a drawer to see if I wanted it before he got rid of it, like some old pens and this brown leather wallet. I’ve never had an actual wallet before, but I do now since he gave it to me. And then I help out, too. I get the mail every day and take care of Tuna while he’s at college, and I showed him how to use his dishwasher and stuff.”

“Is he getting a higher degree?”

“No, he’s being a professor this summer. He’s going back to Lakeview High next week for like, teacher work week or whatever, though.” 

“Where is he teaching?”

“Uh, Texas A&M.”

“So he’s not in the home with you every day, then.”

“No. He’s only home on Tuesdays and weekends. Otherwise, he’s gone all day and he comes home in the afternoon or at night. But now I’m not even there that much cause I work, too.”

“You have a job?”

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

“There’s a frozen yogurt shop on our Main Street. I work there.” 

Rian nodded, writing that down. “Do you like it?”

“I hate the uniform, but other than that, it’s okay.”

“How much are you working?” 

“Kind of a lot. I’m trying to save up so I can leave.” Awsten frowned again.

“What’s that face for?” Rian asked.

Awsten shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. Just, like… Am I ever gonna find somewhere stable to live?” he asked blandly, forcing a laugh to accompany the pathetic words. 

“Yes. You will. In time.” 

Awsten nodded. “Well, there’s no actual plan to start looking yet. I mean, I don’t have even close to enough money cause I’m making, like, a dollar above minimum wage.”

“But you’re clearly already thinking about it.”

Awsten shrugged again and then nodded. 

“How do you feel about leaving Mr. W’s house?” 

“Not good,” he admitted softly. 

“Why?” 

“Cause I get along with him really well, and his house is awesome, and… I guess even though everything was kinda shitty to begin with, I like… found my groove, I guess.”

“That’s great, Awsten.”

He shook his head. “It’s so dumb.” 

“No, it isn’t.” 

“And it’s temporary. It’s not like I can stay forever. He probably doesn’t even fucking want me there. He's just too nice to say it.”

Awsten was quiet, and so was Rian.

Rian tapped his pen lightly against his paper. “Awsten… don’t take this the wrong way, but… what made you come here today? You skipped several weeks, but you’re here now even though you didn’t have transportation.” 

“Cause.” 

Rian tilted his head. “Cause what?”

“Cause I just decided to, that’s all.” 

“Hmm. Talk to me some more about your job. What’s it like?” 

“I actually like it,” he admitted. “We mostly just sit around and then clean stuff and then sit around some more, but the boss is never there, which is nice. I’m not stressed about that. And I can text and read and stuff. There’s this asshole that works with me some days, Jake. He sucks. But the girl who works most of the time is cool. She’s really nice, and she does most of the work but in a way that’s like, she does it before I can do it, not she does it because I’m _not_ doing it, you know?”

“She’s proactive?”

“Yeah. I think. I work by myself a lot of the time, but honestly, I’d rather be there alone than with Jake.”

“What’s challenging about Jake?”

“Well, first off, he calls me his 'froyo bro' and always tells me that we need more 'froyo hoes.'"

"Oh," Rian said in surprise.

"Yep. He's great," Awsten said sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. "And he’s so fucking full of himself, oh my god. Like, we went to school together our entire lives, right? He’s a grade older than me, but there were only thirty-one kids in my graduating class. There were twenty-eight in his. And on my first day at the yogurt place, he asked me what my name was and said he thought I looked familiar.” 

“Oh, wow,” Rian muttered.

“Yeah! I don’t want to be like, ‘he’s a dumb prep,’ but… I don’t know. All he cares about is his Twitter account, cause apparently he has like a thousand followers. And he thinks he’s really cool cause he played football. I guess he ignores the fact that they’ve lost literally every single game for the last six years or something. It might be longer now.”

“I have actually heard about that,” Rian admitted.

“We’re legendary,” Awsten said with a teasing smile. “But yeah, Jake sucks. He’s the kind of guy that, on the one time he decides to actually clean something, he stops and stares at it and tries to get a look at his reflection in it. I look over when he’s supposed to be helping, but he’s just flexing at a giant steel machine.” Awsten rolled his eyes again.

Rian chuckled.

“Anyway, I get to pick the music when I’m there by myself. Me and Jake are supposed to take turns, but he’s such a douchebag that I don’t want to bother trying to argue with him when it’s my turn.”

“What would happen if you did?”

“He’s just make fun of whatever I picked, probably.”

“You two have different tastes?”

“Completely,” Awsten snorted. “He likes rap.”

“And you said you like alternative music, right?”

“Yeah. Rock and stuff.”

“Why not ask him?”

Awsten shook his head, brushing off the question. “It’s more trouble than it’s worth.” 

“Well, you might just try it sometime and see.”

“Maybe.” 

Rian flipped back a few pages through his notes and decided to switch gears. “How is Otto doing?” 

Awsten tensed. 

“Did something happen between the two of you?” 

“I don’t know,” Awsten said, almost inaudibly.

“You don’t know if something happened?”

“I don’t know how he is.” 

“Is he at school already? Was he going to college? I can’t remember if we discussed that.” 

Awsten’s eyes snapped up to meet Rian’s. “If you make me talk about him, I’m leaving.” 

Rian held a hand up. “Okay,” he placated. “This is a sensitive topic?”

Awsten nodded. 

“Okay. Fair. Thank you for telling me. I won’t ask about him again today.”

“Kay,” Awsten said. He’d noticed the last word in Rian’s sentence but decided to ignore it. Today was all that mattered at the moment. 

“What about Otto’s parents?”

Nope. Fuck that. Awsten began to stand.

“Awsten, I’m trying to figure out what’s been going on with you. I’m missing a lot of pieces, that’s all. We can stop, though. Do you want to direct our conversation today?”

“No, I want to go home,” he said crossly, heading for the door.

“You came all this way, Awsten. You fought really hard to get here; let’s do some work. Did you come here with something in mind that you wanted to discuss?”

“No,” he lied. “I wanted to see Godfrey.” (That part was true.)

“I can probably arrange that. Hang on a second.” He wiggled his phone out of his pocket and tapped on it for a few moments.

Awsten crossed his arms over his chest as he waited in the center of the room.

Rian slipped his phone back into his jeans before saying, “He’s on his way.” 

“Okay,” Awsten nodded. He went back to the couch.

“How are your dreams?” 

Awsten sighed. “Um, worse since Fourth of July.”

“Yes, I’d wondered about that. How was Fourth of July for you?”

“Bad,” Awsten whispered. He fidgeted with the end of his shorts.

Rian let him sit in silence for nearly twenty seconds before prompting, “What happened?”

“I just got a little freaked out. Mr. W drove me like an hour away from Lakeview so I wouldn’t have to hear the noise, and we sat in his car and ate ice cream by Rice, cause that’s the college he went to, and then we drove back. He said he was waiting for the fireworks to end before we went home.” 

“That’s pretty nice of him."

Awsten nodded.

"Did it help?”

“Uh-huh.” 

“When you say that you got freaked out, what do you mean? Specifically.” 

“I thought the fireworks were gunshots at first even though I knew they were coming. I started having… um, flashbacks,” Awsten confessed, forcing the taboo word out of his mouth. “Bad ones. Everything came back. You told me once - I think it was you, not Lucas. You told me my memories would dim or something. And you were right. I didn’t realize that had been happening until they came back as clear as the day everything happened.” Awsten shook his head.

“What were you seeing in your flashbacks?”

Awsten shook his head again and drew his knees up to his chest. 

“How long did they last?” 

“All night. All the next day. All the day after that.” He swallowed. “I had another nightmare that woke me up screaming the same week.”

Rian frowned.

“Mr. W came and woke me up. He was really nice about it, and he didn't get mad. I was crying like a little bitch. But he stayed with me through that, and before that he drove me to Rice, and way before that, he saw me covered in blood and sat with me at the police station while I gave my statement, and he was in the lockdown, and he helped me when my dad beat me up… He’s the only one who actually kind of knows everything I went through. And he was never scared.”

“Awsten, I think anyone would be scared.” 

He shook his head. “Not Mr. W.” 

There was a knock at the door, and Rian called, "Come in!"

Grace, who was now sporting neon blue hair, poked her head in and chirped, “Hi! I’ve actually got a meeting that starts in two minutes, so is it okay if I leave him with you for a bit? I promise he’ll behave!”

“That’s fine,” Rian assured.

She nudged Godfrey in. “Thanks! I’ll be back before three!” The door closed, and she was off.

“Come here,” Awsten whispered, softly clapping his hands together.

Godfrey hurried toward him, and Awsten smiled a little at his wagging tail and the pink tongue lolling out of his mouth. 

“Come here, buddy,” he encouraged again. 

Godfrey hopped up onto the couch and settled happily onto Awsten’s legs. 

Awsten hugged him, promptly burying his face in Godfrey’s curls. “I missed you.” Then, without looking up, he said to Rian, “I’ll talk to you now.” 

“Okay.” 

Awsten’s voice was a little muffled as he added, “But I don’t want you to talk back. I just want to tell you what I want to say, and I don’t want you to ask any questions.”

“That’s fine.”

Awsten nodded. He swallowed and then stated, “I love Mr. W and I love living with him, but I miss Otto and my mom. And Otto’s dad, too. I haven’t seen them in a long time. And I miss Peace and Purpose, too. I would go back in a heartbeat if I was allowed. 

"I feel a little bit bad that my real mom killed herself, but I don’t miss her at all, and I wish my dad would die, too.  And sometimes I think about what things would have been like for me if Michael just had the gun and he hadn’t shot himself, you know? I think I’d be a lot less messed up. And then none of this would have happened.” His lips curled into a subtle snarl. “Fuck him. _Fuck_ him. He ruined everything.”

Feeling that he owed Rian some sort of explanation, he muttered, “I did something bad in June that ruined the whole rest of my life. And it ruined the whole beginning of my life, too. And I changed my mind - I’m glad the Woods aren’t my real family, cause I’m never gonna see any of them again. It’s killing me, and I can’t talk about it, but I want to, but I also don’t want to. I’ve never hated myself so much before. I spent all my time hating my parents a lot and kind of hating myself, but now that my parents haven’t really been in the picture, it switched. I kind of hate them, but I really, really, really hate myself. 

“I know I sound like I don’t mean any of this, but it’s cause I can’t feel anything right now. If I could feel it, I wouldn’t have told you. But I can’t, so I said it.”

After Awsten had been silent for several seconds, Rian said carefully, “Thank you for saying it.”

Awsten nodded.

Rian let the room fall quiet again. 

“He was my brother,” he whispered into Godfrey’s fur. It was so quiet that he knew there was no way Rian could have heard him, so he repeated a little louder, “He was my brother. She was my mom. And I… I destroyed everything.” 

“What-”

“No questions,” Awsten snapped. He adjusted, and he felt movement that meant Godfrey’s tail was wagging. The fight drained out of him, and he sagged lower onto the dog. “No questions,” he repeated tiredly. “You promised.”

“No questions,” Rian affirmed.

Awsten didn’t speak for the rest of his session.

 

* * *

 

**August 7**

Geoff was sitting on the porch when Awsten walked up the driveway, his bike by his side.

“Hello,” Geoff murmured with a smile. 

Awsten’s expression remained blank, but he raised a crimson hand to wave.

Geoff squinted at it. Was that…? Suddenly, Geoff processed the fact that Awsten’s legs were covered in blood from the knees down, and his shirt was splattered, too. Unsettled, he stood quickly. “What happened to you? Are you alright?” 

Awsten didn’t speak; he just turned to look behind him. 

Geoff’s eyes followed, and he noticed that the road Awsten had come down was streaked with more blood. The teenager stepped out of the way, and there, caught in the spokes of the back wheel of his bike, was a sneaker. The sneaker had a leg attached to it. 

Geoff rushed over, clad only in socks again this time, and gasped at the lifeless body Awsten had dragged here. The body’s hands didn’t seem like much of anything until Geoff realized he was staring at a little tattoo on the thumb. Even more dread seeped in. 

“Awsten, what have you done?” he asked gravely. He turned back, but Awsten was gone. 

“Mr. W?” rasped a voice, and Geoff looked back down to see an open mouth. The chin, lips, and teeth were coated in red. 

His gaze scanned up a few inches, and he was horrified to make eye contact with M-

 

Geoff flew up in bed, his hands cupped over his mouth. 

Tuna hurriedly snapped to attention beside him, staring at him with concern in her big, yellow eyes.

“It’s alright,” he assured her hurriedly, although he wasn’t sure whether it was true. “It’s alright.” 

“Mrow?”

“Yes. One moment.” He rested his head in his hands for only a few seconds before pushing his fingers through his wild hair. He smoothed it as best he could before lying back down. His heart was still pounding in his chest, and Tuna padded up onto his ribcage as if in an attempt to slow it down. 

“I’m alright,” he told her again, reaching up to scratch lightly behind her ears. “Oh, goodness, Tuna, that frightened me…” He exhaled, and then he closed his eyes again. "I haven't had a dream like that in... Well, I'm not even sure how long."

She used her head to nudge at his chin.

“Yes. It’s alright now. I am sorry that I woke you; you may go back to sleep.”

As she adjusted on his chest, he realized that her weight - and maybe even just her presence - was genuinely helping to calm him. 

“It’s alright,” he repeated softly. He stroked her back, soothing both himself and his cat. “It was only a dream.” 

But try as he might, he couldn’t fall back to sleep. Michael’s eyes had burned themselves into his mind.

 

* * *

 

**August 18**

“My goodness gracious,” Geoff scoffed angrily under his breath, setting his phone down rather loudly. His tea rippled in its cup. 

Across the table, John raised his eyebrows. “What, uh. What you got goin’ there?” 

“There is this… Are you aware of Candy Crush?” 

“I’m ‘aware’ of it, yeah.” He took a drink from his coffee mug. “I think you’re about a year behind the rest of the world. Maybe two.” 

“Well,” he humphed, “Awsten installed it on my phone, and I cannot seem to stop playing it, but I also cannot seem to complete this level.”

“Let me see that,” John said, and he slid Geoff’s iPhone across the table toward himself.

Geoff sighed. “Please do not lose another life. Although - how could you not? This game is entirely impossible. ” 

“Grapes put this on here, huh?” John asked, pressing the screen a few times. “How’s he doing?” 

“Have you not seen him in town lately?” Geoff asked curiously. 

“What?”

“He is blonde now.” 

“Oh,” John said, only sounding slightly interested. He began swiping the candy back and forth. “No, I haven’t. What should we call him, then? Banana?” 

Geoff snorted. “His name will do just fine.” 

“I think I’ll stick to Grapes.” 

“Well.” Geoff didn’t want to update John on the situation, but he was going to find out sooner or later. It might as well be from the source. “He has been living with me all summer.” 

John’s eyebrows shot up, and he almost dropped Geoff’s phone. “What?!” 

“Yes. He’s doing much more poorly than I expected, and yet, at the same time, he is faring much better than I believe I could ask.” 

“Wait, no no no. How did this start?! He just showed up at your door looking like a kicked puppy, and-”

“Well, yes, actually.” 

“No,” John said, stunned. “Geoff. No. That’s - that’s not cool, man. You gotta get him out of there _now_. Do you know what that looks like?”

“I am well aware. But I assure you, no such thing is taking place. He is eighteen now, and I am fine with him staying. Besides, he is in need of-”

“Yeah, we’re all ‘in need,’ but that doesn’t mean-”

Geoff leaned forward and silently took his phone back from John’s hand. 

John sighed. “You’re always fine until Awsten comes up, and then you turn so defensive you can’t see straight.”

“Because you won’t even try to understand my point of view.”

“And you won’t try to understand mine, either,” John said patiently. “Look, I know you care about him. But, Geoff - this looks really, really bad.” 

Geoff's reply was blunt. “I do not care.”

“But-”

“I told him that he is welcome to stay as long as he wishes, and I will not retract my word. I enjoy his presence. Could we talk about something else?” 

“No. This is important.”

“I see,” Geoff said coldly, getting to his feet and heading for the door. 

“Oh, come _on_ , man,” John groaned. “Not this again.”

“No,” Geoff snapped, whirling back around. “All summer I waited to see you - my only friend. And you can’t even manage listen to me for one minute!” He was angry at himself for getting worked up, but he couldn’t reign the emotion in. It was far too late for that. “I am well aware that I sound like a child, and I know that you are trying to be helpful, but John, you are not! He needed a home, and I had plenty of space to share. That is all! He is very important to me, and you know that, but you are entirely unwilling to even attempt to understand why!” 

John’s eyes were wide as stared at Geoff.

“Now,” he said, smoothing his hair down as he tried to calm his emotions, “I am going to my classroom, and I would greatly appreciate it if you would _not_ follow.” And with that, he exited the room, shutting the door behind himself. 

His teacup trembled in his hand, and he had never been more grateful to see the hallway in front of him completely vacant. As he let himself into his classroom, he closed his door and went straight for the blinds, pushing them aside so that he could see the football field. The patch of grass that Geoff used to check on every day during the previous school year had long since blended in with the rest. He sighed, staring at it, Cassadee's tearstained face flashing into his mind.

_Buzz buzz!_

Geoff ignored his phone, assuming that it was John texting him. But one or two seconds later, the device went off again.

_Buzz buzz!_

Geoff tugged it out of his pocket and glanced at it. One of his eyebrows rose, and he slid his thumb across the bottom of the screen. 

“Hello?”

“Hey!” came the whispered response. “You answered! Are you busy?”

Relieved to hear a familiar voice, Geoff sagged a little. He dropped the curtains and headed back for his desk. “Not at the moment. Is everything alright?”

“Sort of.”

“What seems to be the problem?”

“I’m at the library, and, um, I don’t see Sara here. It’s just Mr. Gilbert, and I don’t wanna talk to him cause he’s an asshole and he just makes me feel depressed.”

“I understand.”

“Yeah, I knew you would! But I can’t find the Divergent books, and I want the next one. Do you know which shelf they're on?” 

“Hmm, not off the top of my head. But let’s think.” Geoff sank into his chair.

“I’m in the kids’ section, but I can’t find them fucking _any_ where. I’ve been up and down all the aisles.”

“I believe you may have better luck in the young adult fiction section, further to the left.” 

“Okay, I’m walking over there.” 

“Don’t let Gilbert see your phone,” Geoff advised hastily.

“Oh, good idea!” Awsten whispered, and then there was silence. 

Dutifully, Geoff waited for Awsten to pass the front desk.

“Okay, I’m back!” 

“Alright. Now, the series is written by Veronica Roth. If the novels aren’t on the correct shelf, they may be in general fiction or on a display somewhere, or they may all be checked out.” 

“Roth, Roth, Roth,” Awsten muttered under his breath. 

Geoff imagined him scanning the shelves.

“Aha!” he said a little loudly, and then he whispered, “Oops.” 

Geoff chuckled. “Have you located them?” 

“Yep! Thanks, Mr. W!” 

“You are welcome, Awsten. Are you picking up Insurgent?”

“And Allegiant. Remember how you said the book was thick but that there were hardly any words on the page?”

“I do.”

“Well, you were right. I’m done already, and since Maddie has school, it’s just me and Jake now, remember?”

“Yes, I do recall you saying that.” 

“Yeah. So sometimes we take turns working, and sometimes it’s both of us at the same time, but either way, I need something to make him leave me alone.”

Geoff smiled a little. “Books are a very wise choice.”

“Yeah, I thought so, too. Anyway, you should probably get back to your class! I’ll see you at home! Thanks again! Bye!” 

The line went dead. 

Geoff sighed again, this time with the slight smile still on his face. He’d always felt that he’d instilled a slight appreciation for reading in his students or helped their interest in novels bloom a bit bigger, but Awsten had taken it to an entirely new level. Geoff finally felt like he was making a true difference.

Not to mention that having Awsten around had been refreshing; Geoff’s evenings were filled with discussion again, something that hadn’t been fully present in his life since he was enrolled in college. Just the previous night, Awsten and Geoff had debated Geoff’s faction throughout the entirety of dinner. 

_ “I’d be Dauntless for sure,” Awsten had announced with a cocky smile. _

_ “Yes, I do agree.” _

_ “What about you?” Awsten asked. “Abnegation or Erudite?” _

_ “Oh,” Geoff said in surprise. “I always assumed I would be in Amity.” _

_ “What?!”  _

_ “It’s a bit too hippie-ish for my liking,” Geoff admitted, “but I do believe that that’s where I would fit in best.”  _

_ “I could see you in Candor, too,” Awsten commented thoughtfully as he took another bite of his pot pie.  _

_ Geoff shook his head with a chuckle. “You might be surprised.” _

_ “Are you a liar?” Awsten asked, both eyebrows shooting up.  _

_ Geoff shrugged one shoulder and, with a noncommittal hum, averted his eyes. _

_ “Okayyyy, I will keep that in mind.”  _

_ Geoff laughed.  _

_ “But for real, Abnegation or Erudite?” _

_ “I am far too selfish for Abnegation.” _

_ “Oh, come on. You’re the most selfless person I’ve ever met!”  _

_ “I’m sure that can’t be,” Geoff said gently. _

_ “No, you totally are.” _

_ “Maybe that’s because you have only seen me while I’ve been content with my life. When I feel the need to get something - be it a degree, a change of scenery, et cetera - that takes priority over many things, including, at times, what others would have me do.”  _

_ “Hm. But I know if I was starving, you’d share your food with me, right?” Awsten looked down. “I mean, that’s kind of what we’re doing now, isn’t it?” _

_ “You have contributed more than enough,” Geoff assured.  _

_ “Well, I just mean, like. You could live without a mirror, and I could see you going out and trying to help people that needed it.” _

_ “You are very kind, but I most certainly could not live without a mirror.”  _

_ Awsten looked confused.  _

_ Geoff lifted his fingers to his own head and lightly messed up his hair.  _

_ “Oh, yeah. Well… They get a second or two. You could spend your second on your hair!”  _

_ “I need much more than a second,” Geoff admitted. “I think parts of it would be nice, like helping people. However, I believe that if you help people because you are obligated to and not because you actively choose to, it loses nearly all of its intrinsic value.” _

_ “But-!” _

_ “And,” Geoff continued, refusing to cave to the interruption, “I would feel much more confident in a society with rules that are less… stifling.”  _

_ “Come to Dauntless!”  _

_ Geoff’s answer was swift and sure. “No.”  _

_ Awsten laughed. “Well, okay, not Abnegation, and not Dauntless or Candor. What about Erudite? You’re smart.” _

_ “They are cruel.”  _

_ Awsten frowned. “I thought for sure you’d be Erudite.” _

_ “That surprises me. Why do you say that?” _

_ “Because you’re smart. And you told me you’re a Ravenclaw!” _

_ “Well, that is quite different.”  _

_ The conversation continued from there, cycling back through once or twice before Awsten finally gave in and let Geoff stick with the faction he’d chosen to begin with (not that Geoff had ever intended to change his mind).  _

Back in the classroom, Geoff’s thoughts drifted back toward John and their argument, and Geoff realized that he had been right to stand up for himself. Awsten had brought trials into Geoff’s life (trials of patience, mostly), but he had also come with a fair amount of joy. And Geoff wouldn’t trade that for his friendship with John. His acquaintanceship, perhaps he should say. Truthfully, they had never been particularly close, and they certainly wouldn’t have been friends if teaching hadn’t brought them into the same building. They were far too different; they hardly ever agreed on anything.

The phone buzzed one more time, signaling the arrival of a text message from Awsten. Geoff entered his password and opened a grainy photo of Insurgent and Allegiant in Awsten’s bike basket. 

_otw 2 work_ , the caption read. _thx 4 ur help_

_You are very welcome_ , Geoff wrote back. _Good luck with J._

_haha thx i need it_

Geoff set his phone facedown next to his mouse pad and decided it was time to glance over a few things before his next class of seniors came in. 

 

* * *

 

_I wake with his name in my mouth._

_Will._

_Before I open my eyes, I watch him crumple to the pavement again. Dead. My doing._

_Tobias crouches in front of me, his hand on my left shoulder. The train car bumps over the rails, and Marcus, Peter, and Caleb stand by the doorway. I take a deep breath and hold it in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure that is building in my chest._

_An hour ago, nothing that happened felt real to me. Now it does._

_I breathe out, and the pressure is still there._

_“Tris, come on,” Tobias says, his eyes searching mine. “We have to jump.” It is too dark to see where we are, but if we-_

 

The bell above the door clanged loudly, and Awsten glanced up from the first page of his new book. 

“Hi,” a woman greeted, peering at him hesitantly. She was wearing a dress, red lipstick, high heels, and a shiny string of pearls - definitely not the usual FroYo Mama crowd. “Sorry, but are y’all open?”

“Yep! Come on in. Help yourself, and let me know if you need anything,” he told her, reciting Maddie’s line. 

She nodded and then said, “Thanks. I’ll be right back.” 

Awsten stared after her, puzzled, and watched as she hurried back to her car. Two girls climbed out, one from the back seat with cropped brown hair and a purple tank top with a unicorn on it and the other from the passenger door. Her long, pin-straight, blonde hair shielded her face from Awsten’s view. Her dress looked a little too big, and her shoulders were drooping. The little girl took the older one’s hand, and the three of them walked in together. 

The bell clanged again, and Awsten put his customer service smile back on, but before he could say anything, his eyebrows rose. “Emily?” 

The blonde girl looked over in surprise, and then her lips broke into a happy grin. “Awsten!” she cried, and before Awsten had time to prepare, she was rushing up to the counter. “Hi!” 

“Hey.”

Her eyes were pink, like she’d been crying. Shit.

“Hey,” she echoed, still smiling. “I didn’t know you worked here!”

“Yeah, for like… two months now, I guess.”

“Cool!”

“Yeah, it’s kinda fun.” Awsten glanced over at the dressed-up lady and the younger girl and then back to Emily and said, “Uh, you guys know school started today, right?” 

“Oh - yeah. Uh, we had court, so I get a free pass,” she explained with an awkward laugh. 

“Lucky,” he smiled, although he knew from his own experience with the court system that she was most definitely not lucky. He would have preferred school to the stress of court any day.

“Well, you don’t have to go to school at all anymore, so, I mean, you’re the lucky one.”

“True!” He motioned to the little girl. “Is that your sister?”

“Yeah. Morgan. She’s nine now.”

Awsten watched her accidentally knock over a small stack of sample cups, which normally would have annoyed him, but after hearing about their morning, he just felt bad for her. The mom shot him an apologetic look, and he just waved it off and said, “It’s okay; don’t worry. I got it.” 

“I should probably go help,” Emily said regretfully, motioning to her family. 

“Yeah, no, go ahead.” 

He watched them each fill up a cup with yogurt (so much for complaining to Maddie that no one ate frozen yogurt before noon). Morgan filled hers to the brim with three different flavors and buried them all beneath a mountain of nuts, rainbow sprinkles, Sno-Caps, marshmallows, Cap'n Crunch, and cookie dough before drowning the whole thing in hot fudge and bouncing up to the counter. She plopped her creation onto the scale in front of Awsten. 

“Dude, yes!” he praised. “That looks so good.”

“I know,” she giggled.

“You think you can eat it all?”

“Uh-huh!” 

He smiled. “Alright, good.” He held up two spoons, one pink and one purple. “Which one?” She pointed at the pink one, and he handed it to her and motioned her over to the seating area. 

With sticky hands, she reached for her yogurt cup but then hesitated. “You didn’t press the button.”

Wow. Smart. “It’s on the house,” Awsten told her. 

She tilted her head in confusion. “Huh?”

Awsten chuckled and said, “Go eat.” 

“Okay!” She grabbed her cup started toward the chairs, yelling, “Emily, where do you wanna sit?”

“I don’t care! You can pick,” Emily called back. She and her mom both finished and brought their yogurt to the front, but Awsten held out a hand to block them from putting the cups on the scale. 

“It's okay. It’s on me.”

“What?” Emily asked at the same time her mom protested, “Oh, no, I insist.”

“Nope,” Awsten replied, shaking his head. “I’m allergic to credit cards. And also cash. So.” He shrugged.

The mother gave Awsten a tired smile. “Thank you, genuinely.” 

“You’re welcome. Enjoy!” That was another Maddie-ism, and Awsten had used it before, but for the first time, he really meant it.

Emily smiled gratefully at him as she went across the small store to join her sister at the table. 

As Awsten wiped the topping counter down and went to clean the machines, he half-listened to Morgan babbling to her family about a new Lego set one of her friends had received that looked like a shopping mall. He knew that as long as they remained in the little yogurt shop, their troubles wouldn’t feel so immediate, so he wasn’t surprised at all when Emily drifted over to him once she’d finished eating. 

She pointed down at his borrowed copy of Insurgent. “I love that one.”

“Oh, yeah? I just started it this morning.”

“How far are you?”

“Uh… like, three paragraphs, maybe?”

She laughed. “Okay. I won’t tell you anything, but you better read it fast before someone spoils the ending of the last one.” 

“That’s what Mr. W said, too.” 

“Aw, do you still talk to him?” she asked, brightening at the mention of her old teacher.

Awsten smiled to himself. “Yeah. All the time.”

“I’ll say hi to him for you when I go to school tomorrow.”

“Yeah, definitely! Actually - if I give you something, will you give it to him?” 

“Sure!”

Awsten opened the part of the register that printed receipts and tore out a few inches of paper. Using a flower-topped pen, he doodled a close-up of a cat face with long whiskers and round glasses and scrawled underneath it, _Hairy Pawtter._

“Aw,” Emily laughed as she took the scrap of paper. “That’s a cute kitty.”

“Thanks. They say I'm the best artist in town, you know."

She rolled her eyes in amusement.

"Mr. W has this awesome cat, Tuna," he added. "Ask him if you can see a picture. He takes a million, and I bet he’d love to show you some. I have a couple, but I have a crappy flip phone, so…”

She nodded. “I get that.” 

As if Awsten hadn’t seen her iPhone 5 sitting on the table mere minutes prior. “So what are you taking this year?” he asked for the sake of some small talk. 

She launched into an answer, and partway though (Awsten was commiserating with her about taking Algebra II), Awsten caught sight of Emily’s mom looking right at him. The woman smiled thankfully before turning her attention back to her youngest daughter, who had moved on to squealing about the new Austin and Ally episode. 

It wasn’t exactly a tray full of coffee cups, but maybe Awsten could still make a difference.

 

* * *

 

_Pinpricks of light are the first sign that we are nearing Amity headquarters. Then squares of light that turn into glowing windows. A cluster of wooden and glass buildings. Before we can reach them, we have to walk through an orchard._

_My feet sink into the ground, and above me, the branches grow into one another, forming a kind of tunnel. Dark fruit hangs among the leaves, ready to drop. The sharp, sweet smell of rotting apples mixes with the scent of wet earth in my nose._

_When we get close, Marcus leaves Peter’s side and walks in front. “I know where to go,” he says. He leads us past the first building to the second one on the left._

_All the buildings except the greenhouses are made of the same dark wood, unpainted, rough. I hear laughter through an open window. The contrast between the laughter and the stone stillness within me is jarring._

_Marcus opens one of the doors. I would be shocked by the lack of security if we were not at Amity headquarters. They often straddle the line between trust and stupidity._

_In this building the only sound is of our squeaking shoes. I don’t hear Caleb crying anymore, but then, he was quiet about it before._

 

* * *

 

“So,” Awsten began as he and Geoff crossed from the grass of the backyard into the thin pine trees at the edge of the woods, “guess who came to the yogurt place today?” 

“Who?”

“Emily Haynes.”

“Oh, really?” Geoff asked, keeping his tone neutral. He’d heard that Emily had been absent from school, and he’d been concerned. 

“Yeah. Her and her family. Well - her mom and her sister.”

Geoff felt a flash of relief. If it were up to Geoff, that father would stay far, far away from them forever.

“They looked upset when they walked in, and then Emily told me they’d been in court, so I gave them their yogurt for free. And then me and her talked about like, school and her summer and stuff for a while, and I think it helped.”

“That’s very kind of you, Awsten. I’m sure it made a great difference to all three of them.” 

He shrugged one shoulder. “I just know how much court sucks, that’s all.” 

Geoff looked over at him, several thoughts rushing through his mind at once. There was so much he wanted to say, and a few words almost slipped out, but he kept his mouth closed and merely nodded in sympathy. 

“And then later, Jake came in at like one thirty. He was supposed to start at one, but, you know, he just comes in whenever the fuck he feels like it. I finally figured out a way to annoy him, though,” Awsten confessed, a devilish grin coming over his face.

“And how is that?”

“Well, he answered his phone when this girl called him, and I heard her call him Jakey, and he made this face. And then later I tried it out, and he got _pissed._ It was awesome.”  
  
Geoff shook his head at Awsten’s proud smile, but it was nice to know that Awsten finally had something to smile about.

 

* * *

 

** _August 23, 2014_ **

_I had lunch with Mary today. It was lovely. We met at Duffy’s, but we were sure to sit inside as not to be noticed in the case that Awsten returned from work early and for some reason decided to take his bicycle in the opposite direction from home. (As of late, he refers to my house as “home” as well, which I find touching.)_

_I feel guilty keeping my relationship with Mary a secret from Awsten, but it must be done; I do not want to upset him or hinder his progress by making him feel less secure in my home. He is truly welcome here as long as he pleases._

_Mary is quite interested in Awsten. Although I am careful to preserve his privacy wherever I feel the need, she asks about him often, and it is nice to have someone to speak with about him and gather advice from. Her curiosity about him is unwavering. We spent much of our meal discussing him, but she is overwhelmingly interested in me as well, which is new for me. It has been, admittedly, a painfully long time since someone has spent more than a few seconds attempting to learn anything about me. She is incredibly kind and so encouraging that I was truly sad when time forced us to part ways._

_I paid for our meal, although the privilege did not come without a bit of a verbal tussle. Several times, she repeated, “But I invited you, honey. I invited you.” I can still hear her saying it, and I truly hope I may never forget the sound. Regardless, she conceded eventually and allowed me to pay the bill._

_We have promised to meet again. I do hope that we can spend more time together. I would like to invite her here, but I hesitate to; I do not need Mary and Awsten to cross paths until I am sure he is ready. Besides, we are more than able to meet elsewhere, and I think she may invite me to her home again. I have been a few times for dinners and once even to sip lemonade on her back patio. Her house is a warm and lovely place, much smaller and more practical than this gargantuan mansion I am forced to take care of. (I sound dreadful. Historians: please note that this is a family home that I inherited. It is a beautiful place, but it is not to my taste and is entirely too large for one man. Even with the addition of a teenager and a cat, I could cut it into quarters, dispose of three, and still have plenty of space for all of us.)_

_Awsten will likely be home from work soon. I should start gathering a list; we have decided to walk to Carson’s tonight since we are out of vegetables and milk and haven't a plan for dinner._

_Farewell, journal. I think I am beginning to honestly enjoy you._

 

* * *

 

**August 27**

“Mail’s here!” Awsten announced as Mr. W began gathering pots from the cabinets.

“Would you mind-”

“I got it! I tell you every day,” he interrupted in amusement, shaking his head.  

“Thank you.” 

Awsten banged outside through the screen door and into the humid summer air. The mansions on the street were incredibly far apart, but the cul de sac was sleepy enough that the noise drew the attention of the neighbors on the nearest porch. 

Awsten was in an unusually good mood after a long day at FroYo Mama, so once he’d hopped off of the top step and down to the concrete driveway, he lifted a hand to wave. “Hey, Mr. Miller!” he called, sure to be extra loud so that the elderly man could hear him.

_"I wanna be just like him when I grow up," Awsten had confessed to Mr. W one night when they’d run into him while they were walking in the woods._

_ "Why?" _

_ "Because he wears big, colorful sweaters every day no matter how hot it is, and he’s always so fucking nice." _

_ Mr. W laughed. "That sounds extremely easy to achieve." _

_ "Good. I like my goals easy," Awsten had responded.  _

“Hello, Awsten!” the old man replied, smiling widely.

Awsten waved again. 

But then the younger man beside him - whom Awsten recognized but didn’t know by name (he was probably visiting from out of town or something) - squinted toward him. “Awsten?” he repeated, standing up from his rocking chair and walking down toward the porch’s steps.

Awsten reached the mailbox and nodded as he reached inside.

“Huh.” The man took a sip from his beer bottle and asked, “You Ross Knight’s boy? How’s he doin’?” 

Awsten’s stomach flipped. “Um…” He glanced from the younger man to Mr. Miller, who was wearing a curious but guarded expression. “I should…” Awsten stuttered, slamming the mailbox shut and jerking his thumb back toward Mr. W’s house as he tried to ignore the feeling of his skin crawling. He turned and walked quickly up the driveway, hoping that he didn’t look afraid, but he couldn’t help himself; the interaction, however brief it had been, made him feel disgusting. 

At the sound of the front door swinging open, Mr. W called out to him. “I know you greatly enjoyed using the garlic presser last week.”

Awsten entered the kitchen and dropped the mail on the counter.

“If you’d like to help me mince it, I would - Awsten?”

But Awsten had already turned on his heel and started up the stairs.

“Awsten?” Mr. W called again, but Awsten didn’t answer. He loudly shut his door and flopped facedown onto his bed, blowing out a heavy breath. 

He’d _just_ started to forget about his father. 

 

* * *

 

Geoff made dinner alone and then went up the creaky stairs to Awsten’s room, hesitantly knocking on the closed door. He clasped his hands while he waited for Awsten to reply. 

Enough time had passed that Geoff was about to knock again when Awsten opened the door and came through it. “Sorry,” he muttered, and he walked past Geoff and headed down the stairs.

It took a moment for Geoff to process the fact that Awsten had his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. “Wait,” Geoff said quickly, following after him. “What are you doing with that bag?” 

“Getting out of your hair.” 

“No - Awsten, what is the matter? One second you seemed fine, and then the next…”

Awsten reached the bottom of the staircase and started around the corner toward the front door.

“What happened outside?” Geoff pressed. “Was there something in the mail?” 

“No. Nothing happened.”

“Awsten, please. I will not stop you if you truly want to leave, but please, help me to understand why.”

Awsten turned to him, one hand on the doorknob. He hesitated for a second, peeked out one of the windows beside the door, and then asked quietly, “The man on the porch with Mr. Miller… Who is he?”

Geoff was instantly on alert. “Did he do something to you?” he asked dangerously.

“No. No, he just… he…” Awsten looked away again before admitting, “He asked about my dad.” 

Geoff let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and looked through the glass in hopes of identifying him. A quick glance at the tattoo sleeve on his left forearm was enough. “That is Colton Miller, Mr. Miller’s youngest son. I am very sorry that he inquired about your father; I believe that family should be off-limits in small talk.” 

Awsten was still.

“Is that why you wanted to leave?” Geoff wondered. 

Awsten paused and then nodded, looking more or less ashamed. 

Without permission, Geoff reached forward and gently took Awsten’s bag from his shoulder. “You needn’t. You are safe here.” 

Awsten swallowed but didn’t speak. 

Geoff could see him weighing his options, so he prompted, “Shall we eat? The food is on the table, and it will get cold if we wait too much longer.”

Silence.

“I made the type of garlic bread that you like best.” 

Awsten looked up at him then, his expression unreadable. 

“Dinner is penne with alfredo s-” He stopped short as Awsten darted forward and threw his arms around Geoff’s stomach. The side of his bleached-blonde head rested against Geoff’s shirt, and Geoff was so startled that he let out a little, “Oh.” 

Before he had time to hug back, Awsten let go and took his duffle bag back, heaving it onto his shoulder. 

_No,_ Geoff wanted to plead, but Awsten didn’t twist the doorknob and walk out onto the porch. Instead, he turned around and went back up the steps.

Geoff sighed quietly to himself. Knowing that the up and down moods would be sticking around wasn’t ideal, but it was much, much better than the endless worrying Geoff would face if Awsten had decided to leave. 

 

* * *

 

Awsten dropped his bag on the hardwood floor of his bedroom. He should have just gone to Mr. W in the first place instead of making a scene. And now he'd packed all his shit up for nothing.

“Mrow?”

He looked over his shoulder. “Hey, Tuna,” he responded softly. He wandered out and across the hall toward her, into the room that always seemed to be drenched in sun. Once he got close, he crouched down and held a hand out toward her, and she walked slowly to him. He picked her up and carried her over to the window overlooking the enormous backyard. Tuna eyed Mr. W’s vegetable patch, but Awsten was staring out at the forest, which stretched as far as he could see.

He knew that he was supposed to be downstairs for dinner, but he took a moment to sit down on the corner of the bed so he could look into the golden sky. He set Tuna on his lap and repeatedly stroked the back of her neck in order to keep her still. 

“Your mom abandoned you,” he told her quietly, “and my mom abandoned me. Your dad probably sucked like mine did. You didn’t have a family to take care of you, and neither did I. We were both alone.” He watched as a bird landed on a tree branch. “But Mr. W took you in, and then he took me in. He rescued us. And now we all have each other.” 

He looked down at her and then back out at the view, missing Peace and Purpose and missing the Woods but feeling immensely grateful for Mr. W. Thinking back to the small bedroom he shared with Jawn, he added, “And now me and you have a window.” 

 

* * *

 

**August 31**

Awsten was fiddling with the broken air conditioner for the third time that morning - not that he knew anything about air conditioners, but it was worth a shot - when Maddie walked into the break room and returned with her red backpack.

“It’s actually hotter back there than it is up here,” she told him as she sat down behind the counter, unzipping her bag.

Awsten sighed and dropped into one of the bright green plastic chairs that were meant for the customers. “It’s hot as fuck everywhere. Can’t we open the door?” he begged again.

“Nope,” she said, not even bothering to look up as she answered. 

“But we’ll look more inviting!” he argued desperately.

She shook her head. “It’s Mrs. Chang’s rule. Door stays closed, no bugs come inside.” 

“Ughhhhhhhh.”

Ignoring this, Maddie held up a blue book. “Have you read this?” 

“Nope.” He’d seen it at the library, but he wasn’t about admit that. 

“Okay, well, you’re going to help me study anyway.” 

“Study?” he groaned. “You know, I just _finished_ school.”

“Yeah, but you’re smart,” she stated, grabbing a spiral notebook and a stack of notecards.

Awsten blinked in surprise.

“And it’s not like we have anything else to do. You can help me.”

“What if I don’t want to?” he asked. The last fucking thing he wanted to think about was high school.

“Suck it up. I have a test tomorrow.” 

“Mr. O’Callahan or Mr. W?”

“Mr. W.” 

Awsten grinned. “Yeah!” 

“What?” Maddie asked, finally looking up.

“He’s the best.” 

“You had him before?”

“Yeah, senior year, but we didn’t read this. It won’t be hard, though. His tests are easy. And it’s early - is this a test or a quiz? Cause those seriously take everybody, like, ten minutes at the most.” 

“It’s a quiz, but… I don’t know. He seems nice; I just have no idea what to expect tomorrow, and this book is stupid.” 

“Well, we didn’t read it last year, but he wouldn’t ask you to read a book that’s stupid,” Awsten replied decidedly, and he made a grabby motion with his hand.

Maddie tossed the book to him, and he caught it.

“How do you know?”

“Cause he’s practically my dad,” Awsten told her with a shrug. “Literally, he helped me fill out all my paperwork for this job.” 

When he looked up, Maddie was giving him a weird look.

“I know,” he said, shaking his head, “but it’s true. Anyway, this is gonna be so easy you’re not even gonna believe it.”

She cocked an eyebrow.

“You’ve just got to read, and you’ll be fine. He makes the questions so that if you didn’t read or at least listen in class, they’re basically impossible. But if you read, they’re super easy.” 

“Well, I made notecards-”

Awsten chuckled. “You definitely won’t need those. I promise. _I_ used to get As in his class.”

Her eyebrows went up again.

“I know,” he repeated. “But seriously, all you have to do is read. He just wants everybody to love books as much as he does,” Awsten said, the realization forming as the words came out of his mouth.

“So what do I do with these?” Maddie asked frustratedly, holding up a small stack of notecards. 

Awsten could see teeny writing covering every inch of them. “What the hell is that? Notes for ants?” he asked incredulously. 

“Each one is about a different character. I wrote down everything.”

Awsten had to stop himself from laughing. “Dude, no. No. That’s way too much. This is gonna be, like, ten multiple choice questions and a couple short answer things. You’ve been in class with him for like two weeks, right?” 

“Yeah…”

“You know how every class, he just wants to know what you thought of the reading from the night before?”

She nodded.

“The tests are the same.” He opened the book and turned to the first page. “Let’s see. ‘Late in the winter of my seventeenth year, my mother decided I was depressed, presumably because I rarely left the house, spent quite a lot of time in bed, read the same book over and over, ate infrequently, and devoted quite a bit of my abundant free time to thinking about death. Whenever you read a cancer booklet or website or whatever’ - wait, is this the book of that cancer movie that came out a couple weeks ago?”

“That’s the one.”

“Oh, lame.”

Maddie shrugged and brushed a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “I mean, it’s not that bad…”

“I thought you said it’s stupid.”

“I mean, kind of… Are you really just gonna read it to me, though?”

“It’s easier to understand it that way.” 

She looked at him skeptically. “Isn’t this what people used to do like two hundred years ago while they were ‘courting’ or whatever?”

“What’s courting?” 

Maddie gave him a look. “Seriously?”

Awsten shrugged and resumed reading aloud, laughing out loud at one point at the narration before continuing. 

 

_"So what's your story?" he asked, sitting down next to me at a safe distance._

_"I already told you my story. I was diagnosed when—"_

_"No, not your cancer story. Your story. Interests, hobbies, passions, weird fetishes, et cetera."_

_"Um," I said._

_"Don't tell me you're one of those people who becomes their disease. I know so many people like that. It's disheartening. Like, cancer is in the growth business, right? The taking-people-over business. But surely you haven't let it succeed prematurely."_

_It occurred to me that perhaps I had. I struggled with how to pitch myself to Augustus Waters, which enthusiasms to embrace, and in the silence that followed it occurred to me that I wasn't very interesting. "I am pretty unextraordinary."_

_"I reject that out of hand. Think of something you like. The first thing that comes to mind."_

_"Um. Reading?"_

_"What do you read?"_

_"Everything. From, like, hideous romance to pretentious fiction to poetry. Whatever."_

_"Do you write poetry, too?"_

_"No. I don't write."_

_"There!" Augustus almost shouted. "Hazel Grace, you are the only teenager in America who prefers reading poetry to writing it. This tells me so much. You read a lot of capital-G great books, don't you?"_

_"I guess?"_

_"What's your favorite?"_

_"Um," I said._

_My favorite book, by a wide margin, was An Imperial Affliction, but I didn't like to tell people about it. Sometimes, you read a book and it fills you with this weird evangelical zeal, and you become convinced that the shattered world will never be put back together unless and until all living humans read the book. And then there are books like An Imperial Affliction, which you can't tell people about, books so special and rare and yours that advertising your affection feels like a betrayal._

_It wasn't even that the book was so good or anything; it was just that the author, Peter Van Houten, seemed to understand me in weird and impossible ways. An Imperial Affliction was my book, in the way my body was my body and my thoughts were my thoughts._

_Even so, I told Augustus. "My favorite book is probably An Imperial Affliction," I said._

_"Does it feature zombies?" he asked._

_"No," I said._

_"Stormtroopers?"_

_I shook my head. "It's not that kind of book."_

_He smiled. "I am going to read this terrible book with the boring title that does not contain stormtroopers," he promised, and I immediately felt like I shouldn't have told him about it. Augustus spun around to a stack of books beneath his bedside table. He grabbed a paperback and a pen. As he scribbled an inscription onto the title page, he said, "All I ask in exchange is that you read this brilliant and haunting novelization of my favorite video game." He held up the book, which was called The Price of Dawn. I laughed and took it. Our hands kind of got muddled together in the book handoff, and then he was holding my hand. "Cold," he said, pressing a finger to my pale wrist._

_"Not cold so much as underoxygenated," I said._

_"I love it when you talk medical to me," he said. He stood, and pulled me up with him, and did not let go of my hand until we reached the stairs._

 

It took nearly ninety minutes, but Awsten read all of chapters one and two to Maddie with only one interruption for a middle-aged man to pop in, greet Maddie by name, quickly make a bowl of raspberry frozen yogurt topped with graham cracker crumbs, pay, and jog back to his car.

Awsten yawned as he reached the end of the second chapter, and he started to set the book down, but Maddie pleaded, “No, can you keep going? You were right; I’m getting way more out of it this time.” 

He eyed the yogurt machines. “Only if you make me something with M&Ms on it.”

“What flavor?” she asked, grabbing a cup and getting up. 

“Hmm… surprise me,” he decided, and then he dove into chapter three.


	5. September

** September 2 **

“Hey, did Maddie Rooney do good on her quiz?” Awsten asked as he and Geoff walked side by side through the forest.

Geoff looked over, confused by the inquiry. “Do _well_ ,” he casually corrected. And then, “You know I’m not permitted to answer that.” 

“Well, I was just wondering, cause I’m gonna see her tomorrow, and I helped her study, so... Guess I was kinda curious.”

“You helped her to study?” Geoff repeated.

“Yeah. I read the first couple chapters to her while we didn't have any customers. Like three or four of them. It was a million pages, though.”

Geoff smiled over at him. “That is very kind. Did you enjoy them?”

“Some of the parts were good. She seems like a real person, at least - Hazel does - which I guess most people in books don’t to me. She talks like a real teenager. And she kinda reminds me of you with how much she likes books and the way she doesn’t wanna talk to anybody.”

“I talk to people,” Geoff countered defensively. 

Awsten shot him a look. 

“Being introverted and somewhat quiet does not mean that I do not wish to engage with anyone. I am quite friendly.”

“I think you’re a _little_ friendly.”

Geoff’s eyebrows shot up. “A little?” he repeated. 

“What was that?” Awsten asked, laughing brightly at Geoff’s tone and over-pronunciation. “Do you have a secret British accent?” He shook his head before Geoff could respond. “You’re a little friendly, yeah. Not too much, but you smile at strangers and stuff. But anyway, yeah, the book is pretty good. Maddie says she saw the movie and it gets really sad at the end. I told her not to tell me what happens, cause I’m planning to keep helping her study.”

Geoff nodded.

“Hey, did you go see the movie? Me and Otto almost went, but it just looked so cheesy, and Otto didn’t wanna watch a bunch of kids our age get cancer and die. Or see anybody get cancer and die, really. That shit's depressing as fuck. We went to 22 Jump Street instead.” 

Geoff didn’t respond. Quiet, white rooms, wilting flowers, and his father’s stern voice filled his head. He swallowed as he remembered the sheer scarf that was- 

“Mr. W?”

He looked over and realized that Awsten had been staring at him for several seconds while they walked. 

“Are you okay?”

He hurried to respond. “Yes. I’m so sorry; I must have gotten… distracted…” Geoff hoped he didn’t look or sound as flustered as he felt. "How rude of me. I apologize."

“It's okay.” Awsten kept staring at him. “You sure you’re good?”

“Yes, I am fine,” Geoff replied, forcing a smile. “I… Would you mind repeating your question?”

“Yeah, I just asked if you saw The Fault In Our Stars in the movie theater.”

“Oh. No, I did not.” 

“Really? How come? I mean, if you’re gonna have everybody read it, shouldn’t you at least see the movie?”

“I prefer to preserve the images in my imagination. If I see the film, they will begin to fade,” he explained. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the entire truth, either.

“But shouldn’t you know what they’ve seen? Maddie said more than half her class already went.” 

“It might help, yes. I may ask those of them who have seen it to compare and contrast some scenes further down the line since some of them are already doing so, but for the most part, I treat the film and the novel as entirely separate entities. I would like for my students to experience the book on its own and see that there is benefit in spending time with a story on paper as well.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense.” 

Awsten continued speaking, telling him all about how Maddie had made multiple notecards that were completely covered in small writing in preparation for her ten-question quiz. Geoff thought that was admirable but also wondered if he should have better explained what his students could expect from the quiz they’d taken that morning. It seemed that Awsten had assisted him on that front. 

“You enjoyed the part of the novel that you read?” Geoff asked him, returning to the question he'd asked before.

“Yeah. It was pretty good. I felt some of it. That part where they had to do therapy or whatever… yeah.” 

Geoff glanced over at him, briefly recalling his own experience with the single session of group therapy he’d attended. He hoped that everyone he’d met at the group had been faring well. It had been nearly half of a year since then. He wondered if the girl with the long, blonde hair was still on probation and whether Dom, the bouncy and young music therapist who’d sat between Geoff and the elderly woman, Gloria, was feeling better. Absently, Geoff considered whether or not he should attempt to pray for them. The thought was pushed out of his head by Awsten continuing.

“And Gus seems cool. I can’t fucking believe they gave him a driver's license, though.”

Geoff hummed, a small smile returning to his face. “If you’re interested, that author has a few more books I would recommend. Looking For Alaska is my favorite of his.” 

“Doesn’t he have a map?” 

Geoff snorted a laugh. “Alaska is a person.” 

“Oh. Hey, should we turn around?” Awsten asked. With the words, he pointed up at the sky, where the sun had long-since begun to set. 

“Yes.” They started back toward the house, and Geoff glanced down at his watch. “Earlier and earlier each night,” he sighed. 

“That’s what happens,” Awsten commented. “Even _I_ know that.”

With a wistful sigh, Geoff confessed, “I always miss the twilight when the weather turns cold. Being able to walk later and longer is perhaps the only thing about the warm months that I miss.” 

“No! Summer is way better.” 

Geoff just smiled. 

“But anyway, um. Why don’t you read the Alaska book for class if you like that one better?”

He worded his response carefully. “It is an incredible novel, but it would be highly inappropriate for school.”

“Is there sex in it or something?”

Geoff blinked in surprise; Awsten had asked the question as easily as he had asked if there was ketchup in the refrigerator earlier that day. 

“Yes. There is both a fair amount of coarse language and inappropriate content.” 

“‘Coarse language,’” Awsten repeated with a laugh.

“There is.”

“But you still like it.”

“It is quite a story. I almost wish that I had written it.” 

It was Awsten’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “Do you write?” 

Geoff quickly cast his eyes down. He shouldn’t have said anything about that.

“Dude, cool!” Awsten crowed, reading his body language. “What do you write about?”

Geoff didn’t answer.

“Can I read it?”

“No.” 

“But I bet it’s really good! Can’t I just-”

“Come,” Geoff interrupted, speeding up a bit and motioning for Awsten to follow. “We have a ways to go, and it will grow chilly soon.” 

“It’s hot as fuck,” Awsten grumbled.

“Not after dark. Come along.”

Awsten rolled his eyes but jogged a few steps to catch up to him, and they remained side by side the rest of the way home.

 

* * *

 

**September 10**

As Geoff adjusted the knot of his tie, he noticed the sound of giggles drifting over from the living room. He combed his hair and slid on his suit jacket, and all the while, the giggling continued. Not wanting to stop it, he picked up his briefcase and walked as quietly as he could toward the middle of the main level. The laughter grew louder as he grew closer. 

Geoff peeked around the doorway to the living room and smiled when he saw Awsten ignoring the bright cartoon characters on the TV and instead lying on his back on the hardwood floor underneath the glass coffee table. Tuna was perched above him, staring down at him through he makeshift window. She batted at him but collied with the glass instead of his hand.

“Whatever are you two doing?” Geoff asked in amusement.

Awsten’s laughter didn’t subside. “Come here!” he cried. “You’ve got to see this! She looks so dumb; all her feet are underneath her, but I can see them from here. She looks like a loaf of bread, and she has no idea!” He broke off into a fresh round of giggles.

Tuna looked over her shoulder at Geoff, but when Awsten lightly drummed his fingers against the underside of the glass to recapture her attention, her head snapped back to the front. She peered down through the table, glaring at him and letting out an annoyed meow. Awsten just laughed harder.

“Alright, well, I,” Geoff noted, “am off to Parents' Night. Are you sure you will be alright on your own to eat?” It was, after all, the first time they would be having dinner separately since Awsten had arrived at the house. 

“Yep!” Awsten tapped at the glass and made an impressively realistic meowing sound at Tuna, who was still giving him a peeved look.

“I will leave some money on the counter in case you decide you’d like to order in or leave to purchase something.”

“No, that’s okay,” Awsten declined firmly, half-sitting up to look at the teacher. 

“I insist. You are not required to use it if you do not wish to do so." He looked from the teenager to the cat and back. "Behave yourselves, please, the both of you.”

Awsten’s lips broke into a small smile, and he quickly averted his eyes but couldn't seem to manage to pull the corners of his lips back down. 

Geoff looked at him questioningly but didn’t speak. 

“Good luck,” Awsten said to the ground. 

“Thank you.” Spurred by a brief moment of anxiety, Geoff confessed, “I am quite nervous.”

Awsten sat the rest of the way up. “How come? Haven’t you done this like, twenty times?”

Geoff smiled as he shook his head. “This will be my fourth.”

“What?!” Awsten exclaimed. “I thought you’d been at Lakeview High for like, ten years!” 

“Oh, no, no. Ten years ago, I attended high school in California. As a student.” 

“What?!” Awsten asked even louder. 

“How old do you think I am?” Geoff curiously inquired.

“I don’t know. Forty?”

Geoff laughed and covered his face with his hands. 

“Is that wrong?” Awsten asked, frowning. 

“I really should be going,” Geoff said in lieu of an answer, trying - and failing - to wipe the smile off of his face.

“Okay.” Geoff turned to go, but Awsten advised, “Try not to be nervous - that’ll just make it worse. You’re the best teacher at that school, and everyone knows it. The parents are probably glad their kids got into your class, so you’ve got no reason to worry.” 

Geoff’s heart squeezed in his chest, and he felt his cheeks start to heat up. “That is extremely kind of you, Awsten. Thank you.” 

He shrugged and laid back down under the table, resuming bothering Tuna. “No problem. It’s the truth.” 

Geoff, true to his word, was sure to leave two ten dollar bills on the counter before he went into the garage and slipped behind the wheel of his car. As he waited for the garage door to open, Awsten’s words still swirled in his mind. He created a new note in his phone and wrote them down, still smiling as he did so.

_You’re the best teacher at that school, and everyone knows it. The parents are probably glad their kids got into your class, so you've got no reason to worry._

Awsten couldn’t have known, but that was the most reassuring thing he could have possibly said. Geoff wasn’t sure how accurate it was, but it was certainly nice to hear.

He backed down the driveway, his smile still on his face. 

 

* * *

 

_To be with him was to hurt him— inevitably. And that's what I'd felt as he reached for me: I'd felt as though I were committing an act of violence against him, because I was. I decided to text him. I wanted to avoid a whole conversation about it._

Hi, so okay, I don't know if you'll understand this but I can't kiss you or anything. Not that you'd necessarily want to, but I can't. When I try to look at you like that, all I see is what I'm going to put you through. Maybe that doesn't make sense to you.  
Anyway, sorry. 

_He responded a few minutes later._ Okay. 

_I wrote back,_ Okay.

_He responded:_ Oh, my God, stop flirting with me! 

_I just said:_ Okay. 

_My phone buzzed moments later._

I was kidding, Hazel Grace. I understand. (But we both know that okay is a very flirty word. Okay is BURSTING with sensuality.) 

_I was very tempted to respond_ Okay _again, but I pictured him at my funeral, and that helped me text properly._

Sorry. 

_I tried to go to sleep with my headphones still on, but then after a while my mom and dad came in, and my mom grabbed Bluie from the shelf and hugged him to her stomach, and my dad sat down in my desk chair, and without crying he said, "You are not a grenade, not to us._ _Thinking about you dying makes us sad, Hazel, but you are not a grenade. You are amazing. You can't know, sweetie, because you've never had a baby become a brilliant young reader with a side interest in horrible television shows, but the joy you bring us is so much greater than the sadness we feel about your illness."_

_"Okay," I said._

_"Really," my dad said. "I wouldn't bullshit you about this. If you were more trouble than you're worth, we'd just toss you out on the streets."_

_"We're not sentimental people," Mom added, deadpan. "We'd leave you at an orphanage with a note pinned to your pajamas."_

_I laughed._

_"You don't have to go to Support Group," Mom added. "You don't have to do anything. Except go to school." She handed me the bear._

_"I think Bluie can sleep on the shelf tonight," I said. "Let me remind you that I am more than thirty-three half years old."_

_"Keep him tonight," she said._

_"Mom," I said._

_"He's lonely" she said._

_"Oh, my God, Mom," I said. But I took stupid Bluie and kind of cuddled with him as I fell asleep._

 

* * *

 

**September 22**

“¡Hola, mijo!” greeted a loud voice.

Awsten stilled upstairs, immediately pausing his music.

There was a beat, and then the same voice, which was definitely a woman’s, called out, “¿Hay alguien en casa?”

Awsten scrambled for his phone to text Mr. W that there was someone in the house and ask what he should do, but luckily, before he sent the message, he remembered that Mr. W had mentioned a cleaning lady. She’d been coming once a month and tidying Awsten's things, washing his sheets, re-making his bed, etc. It was always a surprise to him when he got home since she always seemed to come while he was at work.  Maddie had some basketball thing during the same weekend she was supposed to be working on her history project for Mrs. Anderson (Awsten sure didn’t miss those), so he’d offered to trade shifts with her but had forgotten to mention it to Mr. W, which would explain why there had been no mention of someone coming over. 

Feeling more relaxed, Awsten had planned to stay hidden away in his bedroom and maybe sneak down the back staircase to grab his bike from the porch at some point, but then there was a crash near the front door followed by, "¡Geoffy!"

Awsten stood up and decided to go downstairs to see what exactly was going on. 

In the entry was a short woman sporting a thick, graying braid wrestling with a now-horizontal vacuum cleaner. (That must have been the source of the bang.) She looked up when she heard Awsten coming, and all the light in her eyes vanished. 

“Um, hi,” he said nervously.

“ ¿Quién es usted?” she anxiously demanded. “¿Dónde está  Geoffy?”

“Oh, uh… I don’t - I don’t know Spanish, but Mr. W, he’s at work. Um-”

“¿ Quién es usted ?” she repeated, pointing at him.

_I don’t know what you’re saying_ , Awsten wanted to tell her, but he just tried to stay calm. “My name is Awsten,” he said slowly. “I live here with Mr. W.” Quickly, he corrected, “With Geoff.”

“¿Vives aquí?”

“I - I don’t know, but I’m 18. I can try to call him if you want, though,” he offered, hoping that he was answering her question correctly. “I have a room upstairs, and I’ve been-”

“Ah, enfrente de las flores!” 

“Um…” What?

She got a tight grip on his hand and led him up the stairs, which Awsten thought was beyond weird, but what the hell else was he going to do? Pull away? No way - he wasn't about to get backhanded by all those rings. So he followed, letting her drag him down the hall. 

She pointed happily at his bedroom. “¡Su habitación!”

Habitat? “Yeah, this is my room.”

“Ahhh, comprendo!” She patted his cheek. “¿Cómo te llamas, cariño?”

That one he knew. “Uh, Awsten.”

“Awsten,” she repeated, and she smiled at him and rubbed the back of his hand, which she was still holding too tightly. “Yo soy Juana.” 

She seemed like a grandmother. Awsten could see why Geoff enjoyed her presence so much. If she was this loving upon first meeting Awsten, what could she be like with Geoff? He said she’d been cleaning his house as long as he remembered. Did that mean since he was a child?

“Hi, Juana.”

She beamed. “Hola.” She seemed to remember something, because she suddenly snapped her fingers a few times and said, "¿Puedes ayudarme, por favor?"

Awsten laughed awkwardly. Why the hell hadn’t he paid more attention in Spanish? 

She tugged him back down the stairs, all five hundred of her gold bracelets shimmering on her wrist. 

It turned out that she had been asking him for help, particularly with righting the vacuum and carrying it further into the house. Awsten wasn’t much stronger than she was, but he lifted it anyway, moved it where she wanted it, and told her to ask if she needed anything else. 

She reached up and patted his cheek again. “Gracias, cariño.” She shooed him away as she set to work. 

Awsten went back up to his bedroom for a while, but once it turned to two o’clock, he was ready for a snack. When he came downstairs, he heard the vacuum running, but at first listen, it wasn’t in a place he could identify. He followed the sound, and -

Holy shit.

One of the locked doors… was open.

Awsten snagged an apple off the top of the fridge and walked up to the archway like nothing was up. He nodded at Juana, who gave him another warm smile. Then he casually glanced around and, still acting like nothing out of the ordinary was going on, entered the space. 

It was a library - or maybe it was an office that also functioned as a library. Awsten wasn’t sure. There was an oversized, mahogany desk in the center of the space that housed a ridiculously large desktop computer and a rug bigger than Awsten’s old bedroom, but what was far more interesting were the shelves and shelves of books covering every wall. They traveled from waist height to the ceiling. Even Mr. W, who was several inches taller than Awsten, would need a ladder to reach the highest row. Awsten smiled at the mental image of the English teacher climbing onto the cabinets to retrieve a book. 

He walked along, pretending like he was searching for a particular book but really just taking in the collection. The hundreds of books appeared to be perfectly alphabetized, which Awsten found impressive. Then he passed an entire section of encyclopedias. Boring but not surprising. 

With the vacuum still roaring behind him, Awsten wandered over to a much more colorful selection, where a reddish book with an upside-down poodle on the spine caught his eye. _The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime,_ it read. Awsten stretched onto his toes and slid it off of the shelf. He'd thought at first glance that Mr. W must have shelved it incorrectly, but the same poodle was upside-down on the front as well. A quick glance at the inside cover told him it was a murder mystery where the victim was a dog. He tucked it under his arm and kept walking. 

A few shelves down, he spotted the blue book he’d been reading to Maddie at FroYo Mama, and beside it were novels titled Will Grayson Will Grayson, An Abundance of Katherines, and Looking for Alaska. Was that the book Mr. W had mentioned? He was fairly certain that it was. Awsten spent a moment looking between the hardback and the softcover versions of the Alaska novel before grabbing the paperback and stacking it beneath his elbow with the poodle book. 

What the hell had Mr. W been making him bike to the library for when there was an entire library right here in the house? 

Awsten stepped over the vacuum’s extension cord on his way out. He had to think for a second, but then the word he'd been searching for popped into his head. “Gracias,” he said to Juana, half-yelling over all of the noise. 

She nodded at him. Her eyes crinkled in the corners. It made Awsten like her more.

He took the novels to the sofa and turned the TV on while he waited to see if she would unlock the other door. And, as luck would have it, she did. It took nearly thirty minutes (she stopped to work through some laundry and then scrub every surface in the kitchen), but she opened the second room as well. 

Awsten sprung up to follow, all subtlety gone. He took the new books with him. 

In the other room, there were a few framed photographs of people Awsten didn’t recognize, two identical but flower-less gold vases, a plain, wooden box with some pale pink fabric draped over it, and - Awsten gasped reverently - a pristine, enormous, shiny grand piano. He had to bite his tongue in order not to utter an, “Oh my _god_.” 

He went forward to it, ran his fingers over the flawless white keys, and hesitantly sat down on the bench. 

Juana looked over at him expectantly.

“Is it cool if I…?”

She smiled hopefully and moved one of her hands in a little circle, which Awsten took to mean, G _o ahead._

Tuna padded toward the room but paused in the doorway, looking around in a way that made Awsten wonder whether this was her first time laying eyes on the space as well. 

With his pointer finger, Awsten hesitantly pressed on middle C. Oh, god. He’d pressed one key - one! - and it sounded like the clouds parting to let the sun through. He shifted his hands a few inches to the right and used both hands to play a G chord. 

Tuna made a beeline for Awsten then and sat down beside the bench, her tail swishing back and forth as she waited for more music.

Awsten exhaled shakily. Hesitantly, he moved through a C chord, an A minor, an F, and a G. He fidgeted with the pedals for a moment before placing his hands back at middle C and sitting up straighter. He could feel Juana’s eyes on him, but he ignored her, swallowed, and began to sing. 

 

* * *

 

“Ah, mijo!” Juana cried happily. 

Geoff had pulled into the driveway just as she was packing the last of her cleaning supplies into her small car. “Hola, Miss Juana,” he replied with a soft smile. “Cómo estás?”

“Estoy bien, Geoffy. Tu  chico está tocando el piano!” she added. 

Geoff’s blood ran cold. He didn’t recognize all of the words she’d used, but he gathered their meaning regardless. “The piano?” he repeated gravely.

“Sí. Suena hermoso. Él es muy talentoso.”

He nodded once and thanked her for coming before driving into the garage and slipping into the house as silently as he could.

Sure enough, there was a song coming from the music room. The music room that was supposed to be silent and empty and  _locked._ This was unacceptable. Unacceptable. Awsten knew the rules; Geoff had been perfectly clear.

“And we talked and talked about how our parents will die, all our neighbors and wives,” Awsten sang, his fingers playing a light, happy little melody that didn’t match the words. 

Geoff stopped in the center of doorway and crossed his arms over his chest, pain pulsing through his veins.

“If you're lost and alone or you're sinking like a stone, carry on… May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground. Ca-”

Geoff loudly cleared his throat, and Awsten yelped and flew to his feet. The piano bench scraped across the hardwood floor. Tuna sprinted out of the room as fast as lightning.

“I’m sorry,” Awsten blurted out immediately, backing up several steps and holding a hand out in front of himself as if to keep Geoff away.

He ignored the apology and said sharply, “I _specifically_ instructed you not to enter this room.”

“I know, I was just - I-”

“I certainly do not invade your private spaces and disturb your belongings,” he continued angrily. He took a step closer, and Awsten cowered behind the piano, a small whimper escaping his lips. 

“Please,” Awsten begged, “don’t. I’m sorry, Mr. W. I’m so sorry. I’ll go. I’ll - you’ll never see me again.” 

Geoff sighed. Awsten had broken the only rule, but he hadn't meant any harm. Even through the fury, Geoff understood that. Awsten had no idea he’d inflicted any pain.

“I won’t even get my stuff,” Awsten pleaded. “I’m gone. Just let me out the door, and-”

“Awsten, you do not need to leave, but-” 

His voice had dropped to a whisper. “Please.” 

Geoff relaxed his shoulders but rolled them back. “No.” He cleared his throat. “That is unnecessary. I will explain, but I require some time to calm down before I-”

“Please let me go,” Awsten interrupted, his voice nearly inaudible. 

Geoff pursed his lips for several seconds. Then he settled on, “Perhaps a break would be beneficial to both of us.” 

Awsten nodded and cautiously took a few steps toward the door. 

Geoff stepped out of his way, and Awsten broke into a jog, darting past him and heading straight for the front of the house.

“I still plan to-” The door flew open and slammed shut before Geoff could finish his sentence. He sighed again. “-have dinner ready before seven,” he said quietly into the empty room. 

 

* * *

 

Awsten ran and ran and ran. He ran past all the fancy mansions on Mr. W’s long street, past the lake, past Carson’s and the bakery and the yogurt place, down past the middle school and all of Mr. and Mrs. Moore’s farmland. He ran past the general store, past the playground, and past the single Starbucks they had that bordered on the next town. He ran until his lungs burned and his legs felt shaky and he desperately, desperately longed for a drink of water. 

Panting hard and draping his woven fingers over his damp hair, he turned around and slowly headed back the way he’d come. His shirt was soaked through with sweat, but he went into the general store anyway, thankful for the icy blast of air conditioner that hit him as soon as he passed through the automatic doors. He traveled straight to the back of the building to drink from the water fountain and splash the sweat off of his face in the bathroom. He dried his skin with a paper towel and then, using t he crumpled five dollar bill that he kept stuffed in the pocket of his shorts for times just like this, purchased two bottles of water and a plain, purple t-shirt. 

“Are you okay?” the cashier asked him. 

Awsten looked up and was met with a familiar face. “Zack?” he asked. 

Zack nodded without speaking. 

“I didn’t know you worked here,” Awsten commented awkwardly.

He passed Awsten a handful of change. “Are you okay?” he repeated, as to-the-point as he had been in high school. 

Awsten tried to smile. “Oh - yeah. Just kinda… went for a run without planning it, you know?” 

Zack nodded again, but his face showed that he _didn’t_ know. Then he stated, “No shoes.” 

Awsten glanced down at his own white socks. He wiggled his toes. “Uh, yeah. Like I said, didn’t plan it.” 

“No - you can’t be in the store without shoes.” 

“Oh, shit. Yeah, dude, of course. Sorry. I’ll, um... see you around.” 

One more nod from Zack, and Awsten was heading out the door, cracking one of the water bottles open and taking a long drink. In the parking lot with the hot sun beating down on him again, he paused, wiggled his sweaty shirt off, and pulled the new one down over his head. It felt gross as fuck, but at least he wasn't sopping wet anymore. Slowly, he peeled the size sticker down from the center of his chest, and he crumpled it up and tossed it into the trash can in front of the store. Then he stared out at the empty parking lot and tried to figure out what the hell to do next.

Awsten blinked; he was such a fucking idiot. He’d left his bike on Mr. W’s porch. What the hell had he been thinking? He’d have to sneak up there and get it - that is, if Mr. W hadn’t already gotten rid of it.

Squaring his shoulders and slinging the wet shirt onto his shoulder, he started back toward the mansion. 

 

* * *

 

Geoff sat alone at the kitchen table, alternating between aimlessly swiping animated candy back and forth on his phone screen and sitting with his hands folded as he stared at the wall clock. Six o’clock had passed, and then seven; he’d expected that Awsten would certainly be back by then, because seven was the latest dinner was ever served. By eight, Geoff was growing more anxious; the sun would be setting soon. 

He decided he would eat the meal he’d prepared, and if Awsten still hadn’t returned home, he would go out and begin looking for him. As Geoff ate, he opened his journal and started to write.

 

_September 22, 2014_  


_Awsten broke my trust. I found him at the piano earlier this evening._

_I am frustrated, but more pressingly, I am worried. We have many things to discuss, but we will only be able to do so if I am able to locate him. What if he has gone for good?_

 

He spooned another bite of mashed potatoes into his mouth and thought back to one of the first nights Awsten had been with him. Awsten had devoured every last molecule of potato he was given, every bit Geoff had left on his plate at the end of dinner, and every morsel he could scrape out of the pot Geoff had made them in. Which was why Geoff had made the mashed potatoes tonight in the first place - they seemed to be Awsten’s favorite food, at least out of Geoff’s meager cooking repertoire. He was hoping they could serve as some sort of peace offering or, at the very least, provide Awsten with a nice meal even though he’d had a bad evening. 

With a quiet sigh, he reached for his phone. A moment later, a comforting voice was speaking through the other end.

“Hi, baby!” 

“Hello, Mary,” Geoff said softly. 

Her tone instantly shifted to concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m afraid that I have run into a bit of a problem…”

“What happened?”

“It’s Awsten… I got very upset, which, in turn, made _him_ upset, and he ran away…” Geoff explained the situation as best he could.

“Aw, sweetie. He probably just needs some time to himself,” she assured him. 

“No, he _ran_ away. I watched him run down the street. I’m worried that he may not return.” 

“He will.” 

“But I frightened him because I got angry with him. The last thing I wanted to be in front of him was angry. He has had countless negative experiences with anger.”

“He needs time to cool down, and then I’m sure he’ll come back. Honey, he loves you.” 

Geoff laughed tiredly. “I highly doubt that. Especially after tonight. He looked terrified of me.” 

“No, I’ve heard the things you say about him; he definitely loves you. He'll come back.” 

Geoff looked down at the table and rested his head in one of his hands. “So I shouldn’t look for him?” 

“How long has he been gone?” 

“Nearly three hours. And it will be dark soon.” 

“I think I would give him space if I were you. He’s eighteen, baby. He’s mature enough to handle himself.”

Geoff closed his eyes, remembering all the times Awsten had reminded him of a young child. “I’m not so sure that he is.” 

 

* * *

 

When Awsten finally got to the lake, the sun had set. He yanked his socks off of his screaming feet and then flopped down onto his back, the ground cool underneath his skin as the cicadas screeched all around him. He exhaled heavily and dug his fingers into the grass as he tried not to remember the events that had transpired the last time he was lying on his back here, but it was to no avail.

_“Awsten!” Mr. Wood had called, rushing down the hill toward him._

_ Awsten, whose adrenaline and anxiety had both crashed at the same time a few minutes prior, didn’t move.  _

_ “Awsten,” Mr. Wood repeated as he grew closer. He stopped beside Awsten and stared down at him for a few seconds before sitting down on the ground a few feet away from him. _

_ “No,” Awsten spat. _

_ Mr. Wood had looked over at him.  _

_ Awsten stayed still on the grass. “You don't get to sit here with me. This is all your fault!” he snapped.  _

_ “How is it my fault?” Mr. Wood asked calmly.  _

_ “You told them not to tell me!” Awsten cried. He reached over, shoved at Mr. Wood’s arm, and felt his eyes well up with tears.  _

_ Without speaking or moving to comfort him, Mr. Wood slid down a few inches and laid down parallel to Awsten in the grass, both of them staring up at the clouds.  _

_ “This is all your fucking fault,” Awsten repeated venomously, but he didn’t move away.  _

Awsten opened his eyes and looked up at the sky. People from out of town always talked about how bright the moon was in Lakeview and how they could see so many stars since there was next to no light pollution. He couldn’t see that same beauty at the moment, though. The last good thing he had in his entire fucking life was just ruined. It was looking like high time to move on.

But for the time being, even if only for a few moments, he would stay at the lake and be sad. 

He was hungry. He was tired. His feet hurt badly. He wanted a blanket or a jacket or something.

He missed his music. He missed Tuna. He missed his books.

No - fuck books. And fuck Mr. W.

Awsten sighed, covering his face with both of his hands, his elbows up in the air. He dragged his fingers down his cheeks and then sat up to stare at the lake. There was a stray stick a few feet away from him, and he reached for it and aggressively threw it into the water, creating a small splash and a wave of ripples that distorted the reflection of the moon. 

What the hell was he going to do? Go back to that creepy, rotting, abandoned house down off of Rabbit Hill Road? It had been his hideout for years, but every time he went back, it looked (and smelled) worse. The whole thing was overgrown with weeds, and he couldn't take more than a handful of steps without the always-soggy floor crumbling beneath his feet. 

Just as he balled up a fist and angrily punched the grass, he heard his name.

Awsten whipped around to see Mr. W walking toward him through the trees, silhouetted by a distant streetlamp. He sighed heavily and rolled his eyes as he turned back around. What the fuck was he doing here? 

“I brought some dinner,” Mr. W said. 

At the mere mention of food, his stomach gurgled. Mr. W was far enough away not to have been able to hear it, but Awsten tensed anyway. 

As the teacher grew closer, Awsten could see that he had carried an honest-to-god plate all the way from his house to the lake. Granted, it wasn’t all that far, but still. That was pretty weird. And there was a jacket draped over his forearm. That looked like…

“Watch the bike,” Awsten ordered when Geoff got too close.

“Oh,” Geoff said, pausing and squinting down at it where it was lying on its side. “It’s so dark here that I didn’t even see it. Thank you for the warning.” He stepped carefully around it and then asked, “You went home to get it?”

“Yeah."

"I did not see or hear you."

"I told you that you wouldn’t, didn’t I?” he pointed out angrily.

Mr. W pursed his lips. “It’s getting very cold. Put this on, please,” he directed as he attempted to pass Awsten the navy zip hoodie he’d given him several months before. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Awsten asked instead of taking the sweatshirt. 

“Put this on, and I’ll tell you.” 

Awsten made a face at him but slipped the jacket over his shoulders and pushed his cold arms inside. If he were in a better mood, he would have said thank you. He might have even said it twice. He pulled it tightly around himself and closed the zipper, hating how much it helped. 

“Here,” Mr. W murmured, and then he handed him a dinner plate covered in strawberries, mashed potatoes, and pulled pork. 

“I don’t have a fork,” Awsten commented, sticking one of the strawberries between his teeth and biting down. 

Mr. W held one out for him. 

He took the utensil a little roughly and lied, “I’m not even that hungry.”

Mr. W let air out of his nose, which Awsten had learned months before meant he knew that Awsten was being dishonest, and sat down beside him. 

“I’m _not_ ,” he repeated defensively, but he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of his plate. He stuffed strawberry after strawberry into his mouth, chewing like his life depended on it. 

“Oh, your feet,” Mr. W winced a moment later when his eyes had adjusted and Awsten’s red, blistered skin caught his eye. 

“At least I had socks on,” Awsten pointed out through a mouthful of fruit. “The ground was hot as fuck.” 

“I came by twice before and you were not here,” Mr. W said, “and now you say that the ground was hot. Where have you been?”

“None of your business,” Awsten snapped rudely. 

Mr. W nodded, seemingly unaffected. “Alright.” 

“Anyway, don’t you hate me now or whatever? What are you doing here?”  Using the sweatshirt sleeve, he brushed a bead of red juice off of his bottom lip.

“I do not hate you, Awsten. Not in the slightest.” 

Awsten hated that ultra-patient tone that he recognized from school.

“I told you that I would take some time to calm down and then I would explain myself, yes?” Awsten didn’t respond, so Mr. W continued, “I intend to follow through on my word.” 

As Awsten finished the last strawberry, he picked up his fork and started shoveling meat between his lips. “This is good,” he admitted in a low voice. 

“I am glad,” Mr. W said softly.  
  
Awsten smacked at a bug that had landed on his leg, but he didn’t stop eating.

They sat silently while Awsten gobbled down his meat and mashed potatoes. Once he’d scraped the plate clean, he set it down in the grass. “So,” he muttered.

“So,” Mr. W echoed.

Defensively, loudly, Awsten began the conversation by blurting out, “ _She_ was the one that had the doors open, and I - I haven’t known what was in there all this time, so I wanted to see.” 

“Yes,” Mr. W said softly. 

“I never tried to get in before, not even once,” he added. All of the anger he’d been feeling all night leaked out into his words. “And I was fucking curious, okay? I just wanted to see what you were hiding in there, that’s all.” 

“I understand.” Mr. W waited several seconds before asking reluctantly, “Would you like me to explain _why_ I keep the doors locked?” 

Awsten shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah, I guess. Whatever.”

“No, either you’d like to know or you w-”

“Yeah,” Awsten interrupted, “I wanna know.” 

“Very well, then.” He softly cleared his throat. “The study is my private space. No one is allowed in except Juana, and she enters only with my express permission. I requested that she clean it this afternoon; that marks the first time she has entered since April. My library is very special to me, and the majority of my writing is inside that room as well.” He gave Awsten a stern look before adding, “I replaced the two books that you removed. I did not appreciate you doing that, although I understand why you did.”

“Okay, but what about the piano?” Awsten asked, still hostile. 

“The piano belonged to my grandfather.” 

“So?” he pressed. 

“Awsten,” Mr. W warned, and Awsten could hear his frustration.

Awsten scoffed but fell silent. 

“When he passed on, my grandmother locked the piano away in that room along with his ashes.” 

Awsten’s eyes went wide. 

“Her ashes are there now, as well. As are…” He paused to swallow. He folded his hands in his lap. “As are some of my mother’s,” he said softly.

“Oh, shit,” Awsten muttered under his breath. 

“Yes - precisely. It is a private space that I keep as a tribute to them.”

A small wave of guilt washed over him. “I didn’t know.”

“I know; you couldn't have. But I would like for that space to remain dark and quiet so that they - if they are still here, in one form or another - are not disturbed.” 

Glumly, Awsten admitted, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fuck it up, for them or for you. I just - I haven’t played a piano in so long. And I only ever got to use a keyboard. I don’t even know the last time I played a _real_ piano. Probably fifth or sixth grade. And there was the biggest fucking grand piano I’ve ever seen in my life, just sitting there! What the hell was I supposed to do? Walk away?” 

Mr. W smiled at him sadly. “That brings me to the next piece of information. The sound of the piano - any piano - is… quite painful for me if I’m being truthful.”

“Why?”

“Because it reminds me of my mother,” Mr. W replied in a whisper. 

“Was she mean to you?” Awsten wondered hesitantly.

“No, no, quite the opposite, but she died when I was very young. Although the concert grand you saw today was my father’s father’s instrument, piano was one of the things that my mother and I shared. I enjoyed it very much, but now that she is no longer here, it leaves a sour taste in my mouth.” 

“I kinda hated piano for a little bit, too,” Awsten confessed. “It’s not the same, but, um… when I was little, Otto started lessons, and I thought it was the fucking coolest thing ever. I used to press keys on every piano I came across. I liked how they all made a different sound, and if I pressed them together, that made a different sound, too. Sometimes they were ugly, but if I did it just right, they would sound nice, you know? I wanted to learn how to make them sound nice all the time. So I made Otto tell me about everything he learned.

“This one time, me and his mom were waiting for him at the music store to be done with his lesson, and I was messing around with a keyboard they had for sale, and I guess I was telling her, like, ‘Otto showed me this! Otto taught me how to do that!’ And so she talked to the teacher and got them to let me have a lesson every week, too. It was either right before or right after Otto’s. I don’t remember. But I do remember that I was, like, _way_ better at it than him.”

Mr. W smiled. 

“He hated that. And he didn’t like piano that much anyway, even before that. He said it was boring, but his grandparents had wanted him to learn, so his parents kept making him go. They bought him a keyboard to practice on at home, but what would happen was that _I_ would practice on it. He’d get annoyed with me, cause he always just wanted to play video games or Legos or whatever, but it was like, I finally found something I was actually fucking good at, you know? I couldn’t draw anything good or spell right or run the fastest, but I could sit in front of a piano and play a song.”

His face fell. “But then Otto’s dad found out. I don’t know how, cause we all promised not to tell him. And him and Otto’s mom had an argument. I’d never heard them have an argument before - and I haven't since, actually. But I came in the front door, and they didn’t know I was there… and they were fighting about me.” Awsten swallowed. “Otto’s dad was saying stuff like they were paying for Otto’s lessons and my parents could pay for lessons if I wanted them, and Mom - I mean, Otto’s mom,” he corrected, stumbling a little over his words, “was like, ‘You know they would never pay for him to do anything.’ And she was right. But then he was like, ‘We pay for his food, clothes, toys, shoes, haircuts… Fine. But piano is too expensive.’”

He fell silent, remembering Otto’s mom pleading on his behalf, not even knowing that he could hear them. _David_ , she’d begged, _he’s much more interested than Otto is! And he’s a natural! If you could just hear him-_

And then Mr. Wood had shut the discussion down with a single sentence that had changed Awsten’s perception of him forever: _He’s not our son._

Awsten cleared his throat. “Um, but yeah, he said no, and he meant it. He wasn’t mean to her or anything, but I heard him say it.”

“I am very sorry,” Mr. W told him quietly.

“Yeah,” Awsten replied, faking a smile. “I didn’t leave the house - I think because I was so stunned by what had happened. I just pretended like I hadn’t heard. I remember opening the front door again and closing it really loudly so they’d definitely hear me ‘come in,’” he said, adding finger quotes to the words. “I told her later that day that I’d thought about it and I wanted to quit.” He shook his head. “I didn’t fucking want to. At all. And she was shocked and kind of upset. But I had to tell her that that was what I wanted, cause I didn't know if Otto's dad would be mean to her if she kept standing up for me, and I didn't want to cause any problems for them. Especially for her." He fidgeted with his fingers. "I went home that night and cried, and then my fucking dad hit me for crying.” Awsten laughed cynically at the awful memory. 

Mr. W pursed his lips, looking a little uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” Awsten said hastily. “I know it’s fucking depressing, but I promise I got over it.” 

“It’s alright. I am merely… I need time to digest this now as well, I believe.”

A long silence passed, so long that Awsten wasn’t sure if either of them would ever speak to each other again. But Mr. W eventually opened his mouth. Before he could say anything, Awsten hurriedly spat, “Don’t,” and turned away. 

“Pardon?”

“ _Don’t_. Don’t say it.” He looked back over his shoulder to glare. “I already know.”

Mr. W’s brow furrowed. “You already know what?” 

“What you’re gonna say. So just… go home. You won’t see me again. I have my bike now, and that’s all I really need. You can throw everything else away. I don't fucking care.”

“Awsten, what-?”

“Look, if you tell me to leave, I’ll fucking…” He shook his head. “So just don’t tell me, okay? I got the message loud and clear. But don’t say it out loud.” 

“I was-”

“Please, Mr. W,” he begged.

“If you would _let me speak_ ,” Mr. W said authoritatively, “you would know that I was never telling you to leave. I was going to ask you if you were ready to walk home now. It is fairly chilly, and frankly, I do not want you out here too much longer than you already have been. It is not safe in the dark.” 

“…Oh.” 

“Yes. Are you ready?”

He was quiet for several seconds, thinking about what to do. Maybe Mr. W was only being nice to him because they were out in public. No one else was at the lake, but the people in the houses around it would probably hear if something loud happened. But maybe… Maybe Mr. W wasn’t going to hit him when they got home. Maybe he really did just want Awsten out of the cold. 

“Tuna has been missing you,” Mr. W added. “She will wonder where you are.”

With those words, Awsten reluctantly picked up his plate and fork and got to his feet.

“I will take those,” Mr. W told him. He gently took the dishes from Awsten’s hands. 

“Thanks.” 

Mr. W nodded.

Awsten righted his bike, and as they started toward the path to the house, Awsten used one arm to wheel it down the street and wrapped the other around his own abdomen. He could feel Mr. W looking at him, but he was in no position to say or do anything to make him stop. When Awsten did glance up to read his expression, he was surprised to find worry housed in Mr. W’s eyes. 

Mr. W tried to give him a smile, but he hurriedly looked away, a new frown finding its way to his lips. 

 

* * *

 

_"Listen, sorry I avoided the gate area. The McDonald's line wasn't really that long; I just..._ _I just didn't want to sit there with all those people looking at us or whatever."_

_"At me, mostly," I said. You could glance at Gus and never know he'd been sick, but I carried my disease with me on the outside, which is part of why I'd become a homebody in the first place. "Augustus Waters, noted charismatist, is embarrassed to sit next to a girl with an_ _oxygen tank."_

_"Not embarrassed," he said. "They just piss me off sometimes. And I don't want to be pissed off today." After a minute, he dug into his pocket and flipped open his pack of smokes._

_About nine seconds later, a blond stewardess rushed over to our row and said, "Sir, you can't smoke on this plane. Or any plane."_

_"I don't smoke," he explained, the cigarette dancing in his mouth as he spoke._

_"But—"_

_"It's a metaphor," I explained. "He puts the killing thing in his mouth but doesn't give it the power to kill him."_

_The stewardess was flummoxed for only a moment. "Well, that metaphor is prohibited on today's flight," she said. Gus nodded and rejoined the cigarette to its pack._

_We finally taxied out to the runway and the pilot said, “Flight attendants, prepare for departure,” and then two tremendous jet engines roared to life and we began to accelerate._

_"This is what it feels like to drive in a car with you," I said, and he smiled, but kept his jaw clenched tight and I said, "Okay?"_

_We were picking up speed and suddenly Gus's hand grabbed the armrest, his eyes wide, and I put my hand on top of his and said, "Okay?" He didn't say anything, just stared at me wide-eyed, and I said, "Are you scared of flying?"_

_"I'll tell you in a minute," he said. The nose of the plane rose up and we were aloft. Gus stared out the window, watching the planet shrink beneath us, and then I felt his hand relax beneath mine. He glanced at me and then back out the window. "We are flying," he_ _announced._

_"You've never been on a plane before?"_

_He shook his head. "LOOK!" he half shouted, pointing at the window._

_"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, I see it. It looks like we're in an airplane."_

_"NOTHING HAS EVER LOOKED LIKE THAT EVER IN ALL OF HUMAN HISTORY," he said. His enthusiasm was adorable. I couldn't resist leaning over to kiss him on the cheek._

 

* * *

 

_September 26, 2014_

_In all my years, I don’t believe that I have ever met someone who flies between intense emotions as rapidly as Awsten Knight. He is truly something._

_The other night, something happened that I longed to write more about at the time, but I needed the ability to digest. I lost a bit of freshness, although I gained some clarity. A fair trade, I believe._

_As I mentioned a few days ago, I found Awsten at the piano. I had requested that Juana spend some time in the study and the music room, unaware of the fact that Awsten would be present. Had I known, I never would have asked that of her._

_In his defense, the doors were unlocked, but in mine, he did know the rule. It was the only rule I have ever asked him to follow._

_I was stern. I did not yell, but I was most definitely firm. He was terrified._

_I found him at the lake, of course, but it was three hours later and my third trip by. I went to the lake first, then to the Woods' house, although they assured me that they hadn’t seen him, back by the lake, and then back home in the case that he had returned. He had not, so I plated some dinner for him and brought it to the lake in hopes that he would be there. Finally, he was. As the saying goes, the third time is a charm._

_We were able to discover some common ground while we spoke. I still have not told him everything about my mother (frankly, I have barely scratched the surface), but I did confess the location of all of the ashes that I possess. He did not seem spooked, which I appreciated._

_I am finding the act of writing about this to be draining to me._

_Awsten is well, though our interactions have changed. They are colder and less frequent. I am fairly certain that Awsten is avoiding me; although he still comes down for dinner every night, he no longer assists with the cooking, and he refuses to walk with me anymore. I do wish that he would. In addition to caring for both Awsten and his company very much and disregarding the fact that I have grown used to not having to walk alone, I would like to have the opportunity to erase the image of him walking back to my home after our interaction beside the lake. He was hunched over and appeared almost fragile. It has haunted me for nearly a week now. He seemed so much smaller than I remembered._

 

* * *

 

**September 26**

“This is dumb, but even with Tuna around, I get pretty fucking lonely in that big house.” Awsten's cheeks turned a little pink. “And this is dumber, but I miss having people lie down next to me, you know?” He lightly kicked his feet back and forth. “I was away from it at Peace and Purpose, and then I got it back for a second, and now I’m by myself again.” 

Rian made a brief note on his paper and then asked, “What made you think of that?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"Who would lie down with you before?” 

“Otto’s family.” 

“His parents, too?” he asked, looking up from his pad of paper.

“His mom would if I was upset, but it was mostly just Otto. But the last time anybody did it at all, it was Otto’s dad. The day all the shit went down, he came out and found me at the lake, and he laid down in the grass next to me, and we just stayed there. For like, almost an hour, probably.” 

“Why do you think he did that?”

“Cause I was already lying in the grass, and I was upset.” 

“You were visibly upset?” 

“I mean, yeah. I was crying really hard. But even if I wasn’t, he’d probably heard the yelling before that, so.”

Rian resumed writing. “Why were you crying?”

Although he had no plans to answer, Awsten spent a moment silently choosing his words. “He didn’t say a single thing,” he finally said. “He never talks when anybody’s upset. I think he doesn’t know what the hell to say. I was glad that time, cause I didn’t want him to talk, you know? I just wanted to think. And that way, even though I blamed him for every single fucking thing right to his face, he didn’t say anything back. And I got to wait til I was ready to start talking.”

“And what did you talk about?”  
  
Awsten shook his head.

Curiously, Rian asked, “What were you doing at the lake in the first place?” 

Awsten was quiet again for several seconds. Then he softly answered, “Grieving.” 

 

* * *

 

**September 28**

“He’s really not your Daddy?” Mr. W heard a small voice ask as he approached the library’s teen room. He glanced in just in time to see the back of Awsten’s shoulders shaking with laughter.

“No,” Awsten replied through his mirth.

Clark, the little boy they’d met in July and had run into a few times on the weekends, was standing in front of Awsten with a confused pout on his face. “Then who is he?” 

“I don’t know. He works at the high school.”

“He’s a teacher?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s _your_ teacher?” 

“He was. Before.”

“Well, what about now?” Clark pressed.

“I graduated.” 

Clark’s frown deepened. “How come you get to hang out with Geoff Wigington and I never get to hang out with Miss Cook?”

“Oh my god, I remember Miss Cook!” Awsten exclaimed. “She’s so cool! She’s your teacher?”

Clark nodded. 

“Lucky. Are you in first grade?” 

He nodded again.

“Dude, I though you were in, like, fourth,” Awsten lied, and Clark giggled. 

Mr. W smiled. 

“But wait!” he crowed, his troubled expression returning. “How come you get to hang out with your teacher at the library and I don’t get to with mine?” 

“Well…” Awsten paused.

Geoff held his breath, waiting to see how Awsten would respond.

“He’s kind of my best friend, I guess.” 

He blinked in surprise; those certainly weren’t the words he’d been expecting, especially after their tumultuous evening the week previously. 

“But Miss Cook is _my_ best friend, too!” Clark wailed. 

Awsten shrugged. “I don’t know, buddy. I think you have to be older to actually hang out with your teachers.” He reached out and ruffled the little boy’s hair. “I gotta go find Mr. W, okay?”

With a scowl, Clark fixed his hair. 

Awsten laughed. “I’ll look for you when I come back, dude.” 

Clark brightened a little and repeated, “You’ll look for me?”

“Of course I will.” He held his fist out, and Clark bumped it. 

Geoff hurriedly started walking in the other direction, hoping that he’d get to the audiobook display before Awsten caught him spying. 

He did.

“I’m ready,” Awsten said. “Are you?” 

“Yes. Shall we check out? It appears that Sara is behind the desk at the moment.” 

“Yeah.” Awsten grabbed Geoff by the shirtsleeve and dragged him toward the kind employee. 

With a small smile on his lips, Geoff rolled his eyes. 

 

* * *

 

_I watched him pull a cigarette from his pack and stick it between his lips. He leaned_ _back and sighed. "Just before you went into the ICU, I started to feel this ache in my hip."_

_"No," I said. Panic rolled in, pulled me under._

 

“You don’t have to read me this part,” Maddie said quietly. She tucked the always-stray lock of hair behind her ear and averted her eyes.

Awsten nodded; he already had a faint idea of where the story was heading. 

 

_He nodded. "So I went in for a PET scan." He stopped. He yanked the cigarette out of his mouth and clenched his teeth._

_Much of my life had been devoted to trying not to cry in front of people who loved me, so I knew what Augustus was doing. You clench your teeth. You look up. You tell yourself that if they see you cry, it will hurt them, and you will be nothing but A Sadness in their lives, and_ _you must not become a mere sadness, so you will not cry, and you say all of this to yourself while looking up at the ceiling, and then you swallow even though your throat does not want to close and you look at the person who loves you and smile._

_He flashed his crooked smile, then said, "I lit up like a Christmas tree, Hazel Grace. The lining of my chest, my left hip, my liver, everywhere."_

_Everywhere. That word hung in the air awhile. We both knew what it meant. I got up, dragging my body and the cart across carpet that was older than Augustus would ever be, and I knelt at the base of the chair and put my head in his lap and hugged him by the waist. He was stroking my hair. "I'm so sorry," I said._

_"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," he said, his voice calm. "Your mom must know. The way she looked at me. My mom must've just told her or something. I should've told you. It was stupid. Selfish."_

_I knew why he hadn't said anything, of course: the same reason I hadn't wanted him to see me in the ICU. I couldn't be mad at him for even a moment, and only now that I loved a grenade did I understand the foolishness of trying to save others from my own impending fragmentation: I couldn't unlove Augustus Waters. And I didn't want to._

_"It's not fair," I said. "It's just so goddamned unfair."_

_"The world," he said, "is not a wish-granting factory," and then he broke down, just for one moment, his sob roaring impotent like a clap of thunder unaccompanied by lightning, the terrible ferocity that amateurs in the field of suffering might mistake for weakness. Then he pulled me to him and, his face inches from mine, resolved, "I'll fight it. I'll fight it for you. Don't you worry about me, Hazel Grace. I'm okay. I'll find a way to hang around and annoy you for a long time."_

_I was crying. But even then he was strong, holding me tight so that I could see the sinewy muscles of his arms wrapped around me as he said, "I'm sorry. You'll be okay. It'll be okay. I promise," and smiled his crooked smile._

_He kissed my forehead, and then I felt his powerful chest deflate just a little. "I guess I had a hamartia after all."_

 

Awsten went straight from work right back to the library, where he checked out one of the three copies of The Fault In Our Stars. 

 

* * *

 

“Are you alright?” Geoff asked Awsten curiously. He’d just come through the front door, letting it slam shut behind him. That wasn't unusual, but what was was that Awsten had come straight into the kitchen and dropped heavily into the chair across from Geoff’s own, interrupting Geoff editing his seniors’ Macbeth test. 

“Nope,” he replied shortly, “and I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Geoff looked at him for a long moment. Then he finally said, “Alright. If you change your mind, I will listen.” 

When thirty minutes minutes passed, Geoff got up and started dinner. Awsten had his nose buried in The Fault In Our Stars. Geoff wondered where he was in the novel and why he was reading at the kitchen table instead of any of the myriad of rooms he usually occupied, but Geoff didn’t question it. He and Awsten hadn’t been spending nearly as much time together since the Piano Incident, as Geoff had come to refer to it in his mind, and he was glad that Awsten finally seemed comfortable being around him. 

He flinched when Awsten smacked his hand onto the table. He whirled around just in time to see Awsten dropping his head into his hands and his mouth twisting in frustration. 

Geoff immediately set the wooden spoon down and moved toward him. “Awsten?”

“Fuck this book!” He banged his hands down again. “Who the fuck is writing all these sad books?! Come _on_!” 

Geoff slipped into the chair beside Awsten’s, and Awsten turned to face him, his eyes filled with anger.

“Why are - I thought you were supposed to - to be able to read a book to forget about how goddamn _shitty_ everything is! What the fuck is this?!” 

Geoff watched him with sadness on his face. 

“He’s at the gas station,” Awsten said aggressively, unknowingly answering what Geoff was wondering, “and I fucking hate this book. Why would you ask your kids to read this?! It’s awful!” As if to punctuate his thoughts, he slammed the book shut and shoved it across the table where it went right over the edge and thudded onto the floor.

Geoff watched it fall, several thoughts flying through his head. What came out of his mouth was, “You are in the thick of it right now. It will grow easier. Not much, but a little. In time.” 

“He’s gonna die, isn’t he?” Awsten asked hopelessly.

“I will not respond to that question. You will have to wait and s-”

“Just tell me. He’s gonna die, right?”

“You will have to keep reading to find the answer.”

“I can just Google it,” Awsten interrupted, reaching for the laptop that sat in the center of the table. 

As Awsten tapped on the keys to bring it to life, Geoff looked on calmly, knowing that it would demand a password. 

“Fuck.” 

Geoff stood and retrieved the book from where it had landed on the ground. As he flipped through it in search of Awsten’s place, he murmured, “You are never required to finish a book you are not enjoying, although this one does improve. As for my class… Many of my students have read it previously or seen the movie, which you and I have already discussed. I have found-” Hesitantly, he said, “-because of what happened on the fifth, that initiating a dialogue about difficult things can have many benefits. This book assists me in doing that.” 

Awsten stared down at the table and then looked up at Geoff. “I…” Then he closed his mouth and just nodded. “You’re a good teacher.” 

Geoff smiled sadly at him.

“You’re the best teacher I ever had. I told Jawn you’re the only teacher I ever liked after, like, fourth grade. And I'm not the only one that thinks that about you. You know that, right?” 

“Thank you, Awsten. That means a great deal to me.” 

“No -thanks. For, like. It's not just that you're a good teacher. You're - you're a good _person_ , too. Everybody needs…” Awsten shook his head and went upstairs without finishing the sentence. 

Geoff sighed to himself and glanced down at the page. The first sentences that caught his eye read, _He hit the steering wheel weakly, the car honking as he cried. He leaned his_ _head back, looking up. "I hate myself I hate myself I hate this I hate this I disgust myself I hate it I hate it I hate it just let me fucking die."_

He closed the book and bowed his head, surprising himself a little, but he was already halfway there. 

_Please help Awsten_ , he begged silently to whoever or whatever might be listening. _Please help me to help him. I have no idea what to do._


	6. October

**October 1**

“Hey, can I come with you?” Awsten half-yelled at the sound of the back door opening. He hurried out of his bedroom, yanking his shoes on as he moved toward the stairs. When he saw Mr. W stopped with the door open but his foot in front of the gap to block Tuna, he smiled in relief and jogged over. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

Awsten quickly rubbed the top of Tuna’s head and then followed Mr. W out, making sure she didn’t slip through the crack before he shut the door. She meowed angrily at them through the window. 

“I feel so fucking guilty leaving her there,” Awsten sighed. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. The temperature was in the mid-60s, and it was still light out, but there was a breeze that made the air a little chilly. 

“That is why I never look back,” Mr. W told him with a smile.

“Yeah, I heard it distracts from the now.” At Mr. W’s look of confusion, Awsten groaned. “Dude. The Incredibles? We’ve got to make a list of all the stuff you need to catch up on. You’re just like fucking Steve Rogers.” 

“Who?”

Awsten shook his head incredulously. “I’ll add all the Avengers movies to the list,” he said instead of answering. 

They fell quiet as they crossed the huge backyard and moved toward the wall of sunflowers and, behind it, the tree line. They stayed silent for a few minutes until Mr. W commented, “I have missed your company on my walks.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” 

That felt good. He failed to hide his smile, but luckily, Mr. W didn’t look over. 

September had shifted gently into October, and the leaves had started to fall. Awsten had never been able to see the sky so clearly from here; he was used to a thick cover of green leaves. Now nearly half of those leaves were lying on the ground, some crunchy, some (disappointingly) not. 

“Hey, um,” Awsten began hesitantly about halfway into their route, “you…”

Mr. W did look at him then.

“You told me once, like, kind of a long time ago, that I could talk to you about anything.”

Mr. W nodded.

“Did you mean it?” 

“Yes.” 

“So it’s okay if I ask you, like… a personal question?”

“You may ask me whatever you like. I cannot promise that I will answer, but you may ask.”

Awsten nodded. “I’ve just been kind of thinking about, um…” _Control yourself, control it, control it,_ he ordered himself. _Lock it down._ He swallowed thickly, pushing his emotions out of his throat and into his stomach. “Otto.” 

Mr. W seemed to tense, but Awsten needed this. He’d waited months to say a single word. He hadn’t even spoken to Rian about what had happened, but today had been particularly challenging. 

The Astros had been on TV all the time - like, practically every day - but ever since they’d lost their playoff game on Sunday, they’d basically dropped off the face of the earth. Awsten would ‘flip channels’ nearly every day until he got to the baseball game, because he knew that wherever Otto was, he was watching it. It comforted him in the way some people supposedly drew comfort from looking at the same moon as their husband in the military or their dead sister or whatever. Awsten didn’t look at the moon. He put the baseball game on for twenty seconds, or at least watched some highlights or something. And Awsten had looked and looked, across ESPN and SportsCenter and Fox, but there were no more Astros. Not until spring.

“Did you ever, um. Like, lose one of your friends?” he asked casually, crossing his arms over his chest to combat the frigid air.

“Yes, I did.”

“What was it like?” 

Mr. W didn’t reply right away.

Awsten waited, genuinely curious about his answer.

“It was… the right thing in the end, I think,” he finally responded. “But it was quite painful at the time. Very, very painful. Both for her and for me.” 

“A girl?” he asked in surprise.

“Yes.” 

“What was her name?” 

Mr. W slowed his pace.  Awsten slowed as well.

“Her name was Clara Rose. Well - her name was actually just Clara. Her nanny addressed her as Clara Rose, so I did as well. For two years, I thought it was what she was called, and no one ever corrected me. By the time I realized, the habit had formed and the name stuck.”

“Her nanny?” Awsten repeated.

“We met when we were very young. Her nanny took care of her while mine looked after me. Our parents worked together.”

“I kind of - no offense, I just meant when you were, like… older.”

“I was about your age when we had our falling out.” 

“Oh.”

“Yes. We were nineteen, if I remember correctly.”

“What happened?” 

Mr. W suddenly looked so sad that Awsten regretted asking. He was about to retract the question when Mr. W started to speak.

“As I said, we grew up together. She and I attended the same primary school and then the same private school up until graduation. We were dance partners in cotillion and in all the lessons our parents put us in, we volunteered together at the library, and I eventually accompanied her to her debutante ball.” 

Awsten wrinkled his nose. 

“I agree,” he said, a hint of a smile returning to his face. “It was quite a pompous affair. But I accompanied her regardless, and in turn, she decided to accompany me to college.”

“To Rice?”

“Yes.” 

“I thought you said you’re from California.”

“I am.”

Awsten looked puzzled. “How did you get here?”

“I chose the school for its academics, but I initially began to consider it as a realistic option because it would allow me to be physically nearer to my grandmother. We didn’t see her much. She had remained behind in Texas to take care of the family home when the business became successful enough that everyone moved to California, and I admired that about her. I also knew that Lakeview was a quiet place, and California had always been… too busy for me. I was ready for something different.” 

“I like Lakeview,” Awsten confessed. “It kind of sucks right now, but I like the idea of it, I guess. It’s like… friendly. And peaceful.” 

“The world is quiet here,” Mr. W mused wistfully, almost sounding as though he were quoting something. 

Awsten nodded.

“She followed me to Rice, and in the beginning, I was glad for her company. But things changed between us.”

“What do you mean?”

Mr. W’s expression grew grave. “She was in love with me.” 

Awsten couldn’t help it; he laughed. 

“It is not funny,” Mr. W told him evenly, giving him a look. “It nearly destroyed both of our lives.” 

Awsten sobered. “Why?” 

“It seemed she had been experiencing feelings for me for years. I began to suspect in high school, but only after some friends tipped me off to it. I started to notice evidence then, enough that I brought it up to her. I was very blunt.”

“What did you say?”

“Well, I believe I said, ‘Are you in love with me?’”

“Mr. W!” Awsten cried, laughing again. He put his hands over his face.

“That was my question. I merely asked it.”

“Oh, my god,” he groaned. “You’ve gotta be smoother than that.” 

“There was no point. I did not return the feelings, and, quite frankly, I wanted hers to go away.”

Awsten’s eyebrows rose.

“I wanted her to be my friend and nothing more. She denied being in love at the time, but I believe now that it was a lie. The behaviors I’d noticed that bothered me suddenly reduced, but when we came to Texas a few years later, they started up again, only much more intensely. I can see now that she believed that I was concealing my emotion around her in California for the sake of our families while hoping that when we would be alone, I might… relax. She was terribly mistaken.”

“Cause you didn’t love her.”

“Precisely. She was my greatest, closest friend, and I treasured our bond greatly.”

Awsten wanted to roll his eyes. No wonder this poor girl had fallen for him. The quiet, mysterious bookworm who was her date to dances and ‘greatly treasured’ their bond.

“And she was pissed off?” Awsten asked.

“She w… hmm. At the time, I believed that she was angry, yes. Now that some years have passed, I can see that she felt as though I had betrayed her or had led her on in some sense, and she was disappointed. And perhaps I truly had led her on, allowing her to come to college with me - although that was not mine to ‘allow’ in any sense - and spending my every free moment by her side. I had expressed to her on more than one occasion that I felt no romantic love toward her, and I thought that I had been clear, but apparently, I had not. Or she had merely chosen to doubt me.” 

“So you lost your best friend, and she lost her…”

“The love of her life, she called me just before she stormed out,” Mr. W said softly. Then he made a face. “She yelled it at me, really. It sounded like an insult. It felt like one, too.” 

Another breeze blew through the trees, rustling the half-empty branches.

“I’m really sorry, Mr. W,” Awsten murmured. 

Mr. W smiled sadly over at him. “It is alright. It happened quite some time ago.” 

“Still. That sucks a lot.” 

“Yes, it does suck a lot, doesn’t it?” 

Awsten smiled as the relatively harsh word came out of the teacher’s mouth. “Did you ever make up with her?”

“No. That was the last time I saw her. She used one of your favorite words and told me to stay out of her life forever. And so I did. That was nine years ago now, I believe.”

“So she went back home, and you stayed here?"

Mr. W nodded. "That is correct."

"And you never tried to find her again?”

“For what purpose?”

“I don’t know. You could, like, Facebook stalk her, see what she's up to.”

“I highly doubt she has a Facebook account. I certainly don’t, and she is not the type either.” 

Awsten sighed softly, trying to picture her. “What was she like?”

Mr. W was quiet, remembering. “Kind and practical. Highly, highly intelligent. She had a very dry, witty sense of humor.” His voice dropped nearly to a whisper. “I do miss her very much.”

“You should talk to her. I know you have Mary now, but you should try to find her.”

Mr. W blinked at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, “I know I promised I wouldn’t bring Mary up again or anything. But your Clara Rose girl, I bet she misses you, too!” Awsten continued encouragingly. “Even just as her friend. You could find her in California and go to the library or do whatever nerd stuff it is you guys did together!”

“You are missing Otto?” Mr. W inquired suddenly, and it felt like Awsten had just been punched in the stomach. 

His smile vanished. 

Carefully, Mr. W said, “I know that he is-”

“He’s gone.”

Mr. W saddened even more. 

“Yeah. I don’t really w… I thought I wanted to talk about it, but now I kind of don’t. Is that okay?”

“Whatever you need,” Mr. W assured him. 

Awsten tried to smile. “Thanks.” He rubbed his hands up and down his arms. 

“Are you cold?” 

“Um, yeah. A little.”

Mr. W frowned. “We need to buy a thicker jacket for you. Your windbreaker is not effective.”

He forced a cheesy grin. “It’s what I’ve got.”

“Well, we’ll get you a better one.”

“I don’t want to p-”

“I will pay for it,” Mr. W insisted, already knowing where the sentence was headed. (There were a lot of things that Awsten didn’t want to pay for.)

“No, no, I’ll buy it,” he backtracked.

“I do not mind. If you would rather not spend any money on it, I will gladly provide it for you.” 

“You’re too fucking nice,” Awsten declared, shaking his head. “Did anybody ever tell you that?”

“Your warmth is important to me.”

Awsten snorted and then flat-out laughed. “My _warmth_ is _important_ to you?” he echoed incredulously.

“Yes,” Mr. W responded defensively, “it is.” 

When the clearing was in sight, Awsten convinced himself to ask his last question. “Hey, one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Your, um. Your Clara Rose. If you saw her again… what do you think would happen?”

The teacher’s face darkened. “I do not know.” 

Awsten was quiet, watching him get lost in thought. They were getting closer to the house, and Awsten grew worried that he might not get the answer to his question. _Please,_ he begged in his head.

“If I were to see her right now,” Mr. W finally answered slowly, “I believe that I would, frankly, try to avoid her and hope that she had not laid eyes on me.” 

“Okay, but say she did,” Awsten pressed. “Say she did see you.”

“I am… Truthfully, I am afraid she might assault me.”

Awsten’s eyes grew wide.

“And even if she did not, and if she approached me with good intention, I believe I would be unable to look her way. What happened between us was… excruciating. I went from having my dearest friend beside me every day during the most hectic time of my life to being glaringly alone, solely because she refused to listen to me and then decided to lie.” 

Awsten pursed his lips and looked away. 

“There is more to the story. And my experience, of course, has no bearing on yours with Otto-”

Awsten decided to cut Mr. W off there. “Yeah. Do we have chocolate syrup at home?” 

“Chocolate syrup? Possibly. I know that we purchased some several weeks ago.”

“Okay. It’s probably still there.” 

 

* * *

 

Awsten jogged ahead to the house. The screen door banged shut loudly behind him.

With a deep breath in an attempt to calm his twisting stomach, Geoff followed Awsten into the kitchen. He had not said Clara Rose’s name out loud in nearly ten years, and it surprised him how painful the whole affair still was. 

When he arrived inside, met by the comforting feeling of warmth from the heater, Awsten had two glasses on the counter and was pouring hefty servings of milk into each one. 

“Oh, I do not-”

“You’ve never had chocolate milk, right?” Awsten inquired with a knowing head tilt.

Geoff scoffed softly. “Yes, I have.” He lost a few ounces of confidence when he admitted, “Never homemade, though.”

“Ha! I knew it. You’re gonna love it.” 

“Is that a threat?” Geoff asked with a small smile. 

“Yes,” Awsten replied, spinning around to shoot him a glare.

Geoff chuckled and watched as Awsten spent several seconds squeezing streams of syrup into each cup of milk.

“Oh, that’s plen-”

“ _I’m_ making it,” Awsten interrupted, the chocolate still flowing. “If you want to make another one later, you can. But I’m making these.” 

Like a child.

“Very well.”

Awsten glanced at the wall clock. “Hey, can you put on Gravity Falls? I’m pretty sure they’re running the first one tonight, and I want you to see it. It should be starting in, like, two minutes.”

“Which channel is that on?”

“Disney. Uh, Disney XD.” 

“Alright.” Geoff paused at the pantry on his way to the television to flip to the next page of the cottage calendar, this one with pumpkins out front and a vegetable patch not unlike his own depicted off to the side. The whole image was cloaked in an orangey, autumn glow. Geoff decided that he liked it very much.

When he turned on the television, it was already set to the correct channel. Awsten could apparently tell without looking, because at the sound of some orange-haired, triangle-shaped cartoon singing nonsense words, he yelled from the other room, “Thank you!”

Then the kitchen was filled with clanging as Awsten swirled the chocolate and the milk around and around, trying to mix them into one single solution. 

“Awsten,” Geoff called from the sitting room.

No response.

“Awsten!” 

The clanging immediately stopped. “Yeah?”

“Those are fragile glasses. Please be careful.”

“Oh - sorry!” 

The clanging returned, but it was significantly quieter. 

Geoff settled onto the couch beside a sleeping Tuna, trying not to wake her but failing. She gave him a grumpy look but walked up onto his lap where she kneaded at his stomach and then settled down halfway up his chest. He cupped a hand behind her head, leaned forward as he’d seen Awsten do, and experimentally pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

She purred and happily nuzzled against him.

Geoff smiled. 

“Here,” Awsten said, coming into the room and handing Geoff a dangerously full glass of rich chocolate milk with the spoon still dunked in. 

Regardless of the fact that he didn’t feel especially thankful, he was sure to say thank you.

Awsten plopped down beside him, and they sat and watched the TV. Awsten hummed along to the little theme song, and Geoff was left mystified.

“What did all of the symbols at the end mean?” 

Awsten looked elated that Geoff had asked. “They change them every episode! It’s a secret code! Somebody online figured it out and posted what all of them mean.”

“Interesting.”

“The whole show is like that. Lots of codes and weird secrets and stuff. It’s a mystery!”

“Gravity Falls?” Geoff repeated.

“Yeah. It’s Otto’s favorite cartoon,” he said, and this time, Geoff noticed that he didn’t sound upset. “Me and him have been watching it since it started.”

Geoff had to force himself not to correct Awsten’s grammar. 

“It was off air for like a year, and it just started back up a couple months ago. I didn’t even know; I’d forgotten all about it. Here, watch!” Awsten said gleefully, and Geoff turned his attention to the little cartoon twins on the screen.

Several minutes into the show, there was an intricate parallel drawn between teenagers and zombies, and as a high school teacher, Geoff definitely appreciated it. It was enough to make him chuckle.

Awsten turned to him with a half smile. 

“That was funny. There are many mornings when I would believe that my students are secretly zombies in disguise,” he confessed, and he stirred the chocolate milk, accidentally sloshing some over the rim and onto his pants leg. “Oh, goodness,” he sighed.

Awsten looked from the mess up to Geoff's face. “I have to tell you something,” he stated, a new and strange expression landing on his features.

“Alright.”

The words spilled out of his mouth with so much urgency that Geoff was forced to wonder just how long Awsten had been holding them inside.

“I love you.” 

The cartoon was still playing in front of them on the TV at full volume, pink and green light dancing playfully across the walls, but everything suddenly felt still and utterly silent.

_What?_

That was what Geoff wished he could say, but he stopped himself. He knew that if it were he who had made the admission, he would have been filled with embarrassment at the thought of repeating himself, so he did not ask. But he wanted to, because he could not have possibly heard the sentence correctly. The show must have been too loud.

Awsten stared at Geoff, clearly trying to read his expression while he waited for a response, but after only a few seconds, he gave up and hurried to look away. 

Geoff just felt frozen to the spot.

“You don’t have to say it back or anything,” Awsten told him with a small shrug, his eyes on the television again. “I just wanted you to know.” He took a sip of his milk and then hurried to swallow it down, pointing at the screen and exclaiming, “Oh, this part is so good!” 

Geoff, though, was left reeling. He wasn’t sure why. Part of him wanted to smile, part of him wanted to excuse himself from the room, and part of him wanted to break down into tears. In the end, he’d said and done nothing, which probably had not been the best choice, but Geoff had no idea how to react appropriately to that sentence. The only other time it had been said to him, things had not unraveled well in the slightest, although the context of it then couldn’t have been more different.

When the episode ended, Geoff admitted that he had liked it a bit - even more than he enjoyed Foster’s. A great deal more, truthfully, but he didn’t tell Awsten that. The bar was very low.

 

* * *

 

** October 18 **

“What’s wrong?” Awsten whispered, going over to Miss Sara.

“Well, I’m afraid our volunteer hasn’t shown up this morning,” she frowned. Sitting in front of an empty chair were seven or eight children, all between three and seven years old. Their parents stood behind them, chatting amongst themselves. 

“Oh, that sucks,” he replied sympathetically. “Were you guys gonna have, like, a puppet show or something?”

“No, just a mystery reader. I don’t know where she is. I hope she’s alright…” 

“Yeah. Well… if it helps, I can fill in,” he offered. "Only if you want me to."

Miss Sara brightened considerably. “Oh, would you mind? That would be such a big help. I read to them all the time, and I like for them to have variety. It’s good for them to hear a lot of voices.” 

“Is it okay if I don’t know anything about kids books? Like, anything.” 

“That’s fine! Here!” she said, reaching behind her desk and handing him two. “I was going to read these tomorrow, but you're welcome to use them now.” 

Into his hands came two thin, hardback stories - [The Library Book](https://books.google.com/books/about/The_Library_Book.html?id=qKiuDgAAQBAJ&printsec=frontcover&source=kp_read_button#v=onepage&q&f=false) and [Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs](https://www.slideshare.net/Vararat120/read-the-story-cloudy-with-a-chance-of-meatballs). 

“I would read The Library Book first,” she advised him softly. “It’s shorter and simpler.” 

“Okay.” 

“Alright. Let me make my announcement and then they’re all yours.”

Awsten suddenly felt nervous. What if he made a bunch of mistakes? What if the kids were mean to him or they didn’t like the books or something? 

Miss Sara went up to the front of the little gaggle of kids, and they all got quiet. “Alright, my friends! Our mystery reader is here! Have any of you met Awsten?”

“I know Awsten! I do, I do!” came an excited voice, and Awsten suddenly noticed Clark, who had been hidden from his view behind a taller girl.

“That’s wonderful, Clark,” Miss Sara replied happily. “For those of you who haven’t, this is our friend Awsten!”

Awsten took a few steps toward her and awkwardly waved at the kids. “Hey.”

“Hi!” they chorused.

He smiled. They were cute; he’d give them that much. 

“Go ahead and sit down,” she directed, and he did. 

“Um, do I just…”

“Yes! Go right ahead.”

“Okay.” He turned to look at the kids. “Um, hi, guys.”

“Hi!” they all said again. 

“I just wanna say before I start that I think it’s awesome that you like books and that your parents bring you here and stuff.” He glanced at the row of adults, who were all listening then, and then back down at the kids. “I didn’t know much about the library until a couple months ago, so I think it’s pretty cool that you guys are here already.”

“How old are you?” one of the littler girls asked.

“Um, eighteen. How old are you?”

“Four,” she said proudly.

Everyone erupted into noise then - 

“I’m six and a half!”

“I’m three!” 

“I turn four in A-cember!” 

Miss Sara came and stood beside Awsten’s chair, and the children instantly quieted back down. “Be respectful, please,” was all she said, and then Awsten had the floor again.

“Um, yeah, so… Anyway, I didn’t start reading a lot until recently, and I don’t read out loud, like, ever. So if I mess up a lot, that’s why.” Awsten opened the first book and began to read. “Saturday morning and the rain is pouring. Dad worked late last night, and he’s upstairs snoring.” He turned the page. “Same old stuff on TV. Boring.”

Awsten hated rhymes, but whatever. Hopefully it wasn’t too long.

 

_So what if I can’t go out and play? I know what I’ll do today. I’m going down to the library. Picking out a book, check it in, check it out._

_I like books, and they like me, and when I go to the library, I sit down in my favorite chair and check to see who’s there._

_Maybe one book, maybe two._

 

With a little gasp, Awsten pointed at a little cartoon bear on the page. "Who is that?!" he asked them.

"Winnie the Pooh!" came the enthusiastic answer.

"Yeah!" Awsten continued. He certainly hadn't been expecting that.

 

_“Take me home!” says Winnie the Pooh. “And if we have to travel far, I’ll take my honey jar!”_

_Sleeping Beauty yawned and said, “I’ll come when I get out of bed!”  
_

_Madeline says, “Let her nap!” and jumps into my lap._

 

 

Awsten looked up from the picture book and the kids when he heard someone slowly approaching. It was Mr. W, wearing the proudest smile Awsten had ever seen on his face. 

Awsten kept glancing over as Mr. W leaned over and spoke with Miss Sara for a few moments. They were far too quiet for him to know what they were talking about (it was a library, after all, and they were nothing if not mindful of that), but he kept peeking at them anyway as he read.

 

 

 _Mrs. Parker’s back behind the checkout desk today. The Cheshire cat jumps on her head and says, “Hey, let’s play!”_  
  
_But Mrs. P, says, “Goodness, are you sure you want all these?”_

_ “Oh yes” we shout together.  _

_She says, “Shh, quiet please!”_

 

 

When he and Mr. W made eye contact again, Awsten gave him a little shrug as if to say, _I don’t really know how I got myself into this, but I’m doing it now and it's not so bad._

Mr. W beamed.

 

* * *

**October 30**

“Oh, and can we get more spaghetti and meatballs stuff?” Awsten asked hopefully in the center aisle of Carson’s. 

“Of course,” Geoff replied, crossing nutmeg off of his list. “Would you prefer to use the boxed kind as usual or try to make it ourselves? Do you remember the pasta maker I told you about?”

“Yeah!” Awsten crowed, and Geoff smiled. 

It was good to see him happy again. “Wonderful. Are you off on Sunday night again?”

“Uh-huh. That’s two days after Halloween, right? You wanna do it then?”

“If it’s alright with you. I will be at school for a meeting in the afternoon,” he lied, “but we could do it afterwards.”

“Sure!”

“Alright, let’s see,” Geoff said thoughtfully. “I have not made pasta in quite some time. If I remember correctly, we will need more olive oil, and perhaps some more flour.” He added the items to his list, and they turned around and went back to the other end of the aisle. 

“How come some olive oil is virgin and some is extra virgin and some is just normal?” Awsten asked as they traveled side by side.

“Well, I don’t believe there is such thing as ‘virgin olive oil.’ But as for the other two, I am fairly sure that it has something to do with the way the oil is extracted from the olives. Regular olive oil is often considered lower quality since extra virgin olive oil is more pure.”

Awsten smirked.

“Yes, very funny,” Geoff said dryly. 

“It is.”

He shook his head and changed the subject. “Did you want to pick up some more bread? I know we have some in the pantry, but another loaf wouldn’t hurt. Or we could purchase some French bread from the bakery, if you like.”

“No, but can we get those?” 

Geoff followed the line of Awsten’s finger to a Little Debbie box that read, ZEBRA CAKES, in bold, black and white lettering.“Alright.”

“Sweet!” Awsten whispered. 

As he bounced to the end of the aisle to grab it, Geoff noted, “All that’s left are the refrigerated items and the fl-”

Before Geoff could finish the word ‘flour,’ Awsten was back, dropping the container of sweets into the cart and slamming roughly into Geoff’s side. His fingers formed a steel grip on Geoff’s arm. 

“Ouch!” Geoff hissed, instinctively pulling back, but Awsten didn’t let go. His nails dug into Geoff’s skin, and Geoff looked down at Awsten, alarmed. “What on earth are you doing?” 

Awsten’s skin was pale, his eyes were wide, and his jaw was clenched. 

Geoff suddenly found himself wishing he hadn’t rolled up his sleeves before they’d left the house. “Awsten,” he repeated in alarm, bending down a few inches so that his eyes were level with Awsten’s. He wasn’t prepared for the pure terror in Awsten’s eyes when he turned to look at Geoff.

“We have to get out of here,” Awsten breathed. 

“What?”

Awsten rapidly shook his head and gave him a pleading look. 

Geoff realized that he could hear Awsten shakily breathing. With that, he covered Awsten’s hand with one of his own, and, leaving the full cart abandoned in the aisle, they started quickly toward the exit. 

Awsten kept his head turned back over his shoulder the whole time. 

Geoff had no idea what in the world was happening, but it didn’t matter; Awsten was petrified. That was enough reason in itself. 

The small store had never seemed so large - or perhaps Geoff was hyper-aware of time. Regardless of the cause, it felt like it took several minutes for them to rush up the aisle and toward the double doors. The pair was almost to the exit when they were suddenly stopped by a hand reaching out in front of hem. 

Awsten flinched and ducked behind Geoff, and Geoff’s arm went protectively around him, but it was only Mr. Carson. He was wearing roughly the same expression as Awsten, although the intensity of it was much, much lower. 

“Did you-” Awsten hissed at the same time Mr. Carson whispered, “I saw-” 

Geoff looked between them, hoping for some sort of explanation.

“Go,” Mr. Carson urged. 

“Wait,” Awsten pleaded, “did you say anything?” 

The man looked surprised by the question. “Of course not.” Again, he told them, “Go. I’ll take care of it for now.” 

With his heart pounding and Awsten still clenching his arm like his life depended on it, Geoff led Awsten the rest of the way to the parking lot. As soon as they were out the doors and into the cool air, Awsten broke away and rushed to the car. Geoff unlocked it so he could get inside and jogged after him. 

Slightly relieved, Geoff slid behind the driver’s seat and turned to face Awsten, but it appeared that the danger wasn’t over yet.

“Go, we have to go,” Awsten begged.  
  
“Where? Awsten, what is going on?”

“We have to go! Please, before…”

Geoff turned the key, shifted the car into reverse, and backed out of the space. 

“Please, we have to go,” Awsten begged again, watching through the passenger window as they left the tiny parking lot. “We have to get out of here, Mr. W, you have to go faster, we-” 

“We’re leaving,” Geoff told him calmly. “It’s alright.” 

“Oh my god, my bike! We have to go home!” 

“What about your bike?”

Awsten didn’t reply.

“Alright. I am going straight home. We will be there in two minutes.” 

Awsten kept turning around to look through the rear window, and it was unsettling Geoff. 

“Should we be returning to check on Mr. Carson?” Geoff asked worriedly. 

“No. Why?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Geoff said, looking over at him. “Is he in danger?”

“No, no, it’s…”  
  
“What?” Geoff repeated. He was usually much more patient, but Awsten had genuinely frightened him.

“It’s just me.” 

“What is just you?” 

Awsten shook his head. 

“Did someone have a weapon?” Geoff inquired bluntly, finally voicing the question he’d been asking himself since Awsten had bumped into him in the spice aisle. 

“What? No… No, it’s, um. I just.” He shook his head; it appeared that speaking was too difficult a task for him at the moment. “Can we just get home? I have to get my fucking bike off the porch.” He tugged at the hem of his bubblegum pink t-shirt. “And change my fucking clothes, I have to…” He shook his head and made a frustrated sound. “Stupid, I’m so stupid,” he muttered.

“Awsten,” Geoff said worriedly, but there was silence the rest of the way home. 

As soon as Geoff pulled into the garage, Awsten dashed back outside and up the front steps, where he grabbed his bike and ran with it into the garage. “Close the door, close the door,” he muttered under his breath, so Geoff did.

“Awsten-”

“Come on!” He dragged Geoff through the door into the kitchen, where he scooped Tuna up with one hand and locked the always-open door to the garage behind himself with the other. Then he went around the room, bolting the back doors and all of the windows and yanking the drapes closed. 

“Awsten, whatever are you doing?”

“Go lock the front door,” Awsten instructed. 

“No. Tell me what is going on.” 

“You have to lock it, okay? I’ll tell you, but it’s not safe yet.” 

“Awsten-”

“Look,” he said firmly, whirling around to stare at the teacher, “it’s not safe right now, and if anything happens to you I’ll fucking…” He shook his head and corrected, “It’ll be all my fault. So can we just lock the goddamn house while I figure out what the hell I’m gonna do?”

“I will not help until you tell me what’s going on,” Geoff stated simply. He folded his hands in front of himself and stood still to prove it.

“Fine!” Awsten snapped. He dumped Tuna onto the ground and rushed to the front door, sliding the deadbolt into place and making sure the windows beside it were sealed shut as well. 

Geoff stood in the center of the kitchen and waited for Awsten’s flitting around to stop. When it did, he met him on the couches and cautiously sat down, watching him unblinkingly. 

Awsten sighed and leaned back into the cushions, staring up at the ceiling.

“What in the world are you so anxious about?” Geoff asked him. “Perhaps I can help, but I cannot if I don’t know what is going on.” 

“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” he replied with a slow shake of his head. He reached for the remote and turned on Nickelodeon, but he kept the volume low.

An hour later, while Awsten snoozed on the sofa, Geoff changed the channel to a documentary about Edward Snowden and ordered a pizza from Antonio’s. (They had left all of their groceries at Carson’s, after all.)

When it came time for the food to be delivered, Geoff wandered to the front door and watched for the car. He went out in the driveway when it arrived and paid the driver, whom he recognized from town but hadn’t actually met, and murmured a quiet word of thanks. 

He returned, woke Awsten, and shared the food with him. There was no mention of their usual walk through the woods. 

They stayed on the sofas, even when it was far past the time Awsten usually retreated upstairs. Awsten frequently glanced around the room, and any time a bird started to sing outside or the refrigerator began to hum or there was any noise at all, Awsten’s gaze snapped toward the sound. So when there was a sharp knock at the door at 10:04 PM, Awsten looked from the front of the house to Geoff with wide eyes.

Geoff stood and started toward the door, but Awsten sprang up and stopped him. 

“No, you can’t go!” he whispered.

“Why?” 

“Because! You can’t go out there! He’ll fucking kill us!” 

“Who will?” Geoff asked, glad to be finally getting somewhere but feeling worried. Awsten had decided to wait until there was potential danger literally on the front porch to speak up about what had happened. 

“Um, nobody,” he lied, his hands trembling slightly. “Let’s just… forget it. Here, do you want the remote? We can watch whatever you want.”

There was another knock, and Geoff gently pushed Awsten’s hands off of him and started toward the door. 

Awsten scrambled after him, grabbing onto him hard and yanking him back. “No!” he cried.

Geoff’s eyebrows drew together, but then there was a soft call of, “Yoo-hoo! Anybody home? It’s Bill Carson. I got y’all’s groceries!” 

Awsten let out an audible sigh of relief and let go of Geoff. Together, they walked to the front door, where Mr. Carson was standing with three large, paper bags stuffed with the items from their cart.

Awsten peered around him anxiously.

“No charge,” Mr. Carson assured Geoff as he laid eyes on Awsten, who, frankly, looked awful. 

“Oh, I insist,” Geoff protested. He took one bag of groceries out of Mr. Carson’s arms while Awsten took the other two and started toward the kitchen. To Awsten, he requested, “Could you fetch my checkbook while you’re in there, please?” 

“No, no,” Mr. Carson said, holding up a hand and shaking his head. When Awsten was gone, he lowered his voice. “It’s the least I can do. Really, Geoff. His daddy’s meaner than a wet panther, so he’s fit to be up worrying all night.” 

“His father?”

Mr. Carson suddenly grew serious. “He didn’t tell you?” 

But before Geoff could say anything else, Awsten returned to hand him the checkbook. Geoff cleared his throat. “How much do I owe you?” 

“Not a cent,” Mr. Carson repeated, and he started down the steps. He gave Awsten a conspiratorial smile. “Snuck you an extra box of them Zebra Cakes in there, I did. I know how you like them.” 

Awsten smiled as best he could. “Thank you, sir.”

“Y’all have a good night, hear?” 

“And the same to you. Goodnight, Mr. Carson.”

“Bye,” Awsten added softly. He took the last bag from Geoff, and they walked together to the kitchen. “Can we eat again?” Awsten asked.

Geoff wasn’t hungry at all, and he was fairly sure that Awsten wasn’t either, but he agreed regardless. 

“That scared the shit out of me,” Awsten confessed as he started unpacking one of the bags.

“ _You_ scared me,” Geoff told him. “What in the world is going on?” 

“I’ll tell you. I just… Here, um, do you want a peanut butter sandwich?” Awsten inquired, holding up the brand new jar of spread.

“I will have whatever you’re having.”

“Okay.” 

When they had put away all of the groceries except for the peanut butter, Awsten went to the pantry for some bread. He made two sandwiches, plated them, added half a banana for each of them, and brought everything over to the table where Geoff was sitting. Then he went back to the cabinets where he filled two glasses up with ice water. 

“Thank you,” Geoff told him as he set the cup down.

“No problem.” He dropped into his usual chair, and Geoff noticed his hands trembling as he picked up his sandwich. He took a bite and spent a long time chewing. When he’d washed the peanut butter down with water, he said quietly, “Thanks for getting me out of there so fast.”

“Of course.” 

“No, um. You didn’t even ask any questions. We just left like I wanted to. Everyone always asks questions, but you just listened to me.” 

Geoff wasn’t sure what to say so he just tried to smile. 

“So because of that, I’m gonna tell you what happened.” 

Geoff swallowed his bite and set the banana down, making sure Awsten knew that he had his full attention. 

Awsten was nearly inaudible as he explained, “I saw my dad.” 

Geoff kept his expression neutral, but Awsten couldn't seem to glance away from his food as he spoke. 

“He was looking at the eggs. I could see the side of him, so I know it was definitely him. I don’t think he saw me, but… I don’t know. Fuck.” 

When it became clear that Awsten was done speaking, Geoff carefully said, “Thank you for telling me.”

Awsten nodded down at his plate and begged, “Please don’t send me back to him.” He looked up then, his eyes looking bigger and sadder than Geoff had expected. “Please, Mr. W. I’d rather die than live with him again. I mean it. Please don’t make me go with him.”

“Awsten, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Geoff assured him, shaking his head. “You will be safe here. I will make sure of it.”

Awsten exhaled heavily, and Geoff could almost feel the emotional weight he’d been carrying all day. He wished desperately that there was more he could do to help.

“Can you read to me?” Awsten pleaded.

Now that was something Geoff could do. “Yes. We are between books now, though; is there a particular story that you would like to hear?”

“Um…” Awsten thought for a moment. “Can you read Winn-Dixie again?”

“I left my book with Travis, but I am sure that I could locate a digital copy on my laptop. Is that alright?” 

“Wait - that one’s kinda sad.”

Thoughtfully, Geoff said, “I know of a good story that isn’t sad.”

Soon, Awsten's sandwich had been devoured, and he was settled on the couch in a pair of socks, his usual green pajama pants, and Geoff’s own Rice sweatshirt. 

“You look warm,” Geoff commented as Awsten unwrapped two Zebra Cakes. 

“I am. Do you want to try this?” he asked, offering one. “It’s vanilla cake with cream inside. They’re, like, the definition of processed food, but they’re so fucking good.

“Oh, no, thank you. I am quite full.” He pointed at the sofa cushion beside Awsten. “I will need to sit there, if that’s alright. There are pictures, and they matter to the story.”

“Pictures? Really?”

“Yes.”

“Cool.” He sat up straighter so that Geoff could fill in the spot beside him. “Diary of a Wimpy Kid,” Awsten read off of the front cover. “Hey, I’ve heard of that!” 

“I find these books to be quite amusing.” 

“Good. I need amusing.”

“That is why I chose it,” Geoff told him with a smile. “Are you ready?”

“Yep.”

“Alright.” 

 

_First of all, let me get something straight. This is a journal, not a diary. I know what it says on the cover, but when Mom went out to buy this thing, I specifically told her to get one that didn’t say “diary” on it. Great. All I need is for some jerk to catch me carrying this book around and get the wrong idea._

_The other thing I want to clear up right away is that this was Mom’s idea, not mine. But if she thinks I’m going to write down my “feelings” in here or whatever, she’s crazy. So just don’t expect me to be all “Dear Diary” this, and “Dear Diary” that._

_The only reason I agreed to do this at all is because I figure later on when I’m rich and famous, I’ll have better things to do than answer people’s stupid questions all day long. So this book is gonna come in handy._

 

Geoff looked over at Awsten, who was studying the little stick figures on the page. Greg, the main character, was standing behind a podium at some sort of press conference, and reporters were yelling, “Gregory! Tell us about your childhood!” and “Were you always so smart and handsome?”

“Here’s my journal,” was Greg’s reply. “Now shoo, shoo.”

 

_Like I said, I’ll be rich and famous one day, but for now I’m stuck in middle school with a bunch of morons._

 

“Fucking hated middle school,” Awsten sighed sympathetically.

“As did I.”

Awsten’s eyebrows rose. “I can’t picture you as a kid.”

“Well, I was very much the same then as I am now, but I was certainly not always an adult,” Geoff chuckled. “That takes time, you know.” 

Awsten shrugged and turned his attention back to the book.

 

_Let me just say for the record that I think middle school is the dumbest idea ever invented._

 

“Right?!” Awsten cried.

 

_You got kids like me who haven’t hit their growth spurt yet mixed in with those gorillas who need to shave twice a day. And then they wonder why bullying is such a big problem in middle school._

_If it was up to me, grade levels would be based on height, not age. But then again, I guess that would mean kids like Chirag Gupta would still be in the first grade._

 

* * *

Within two hours, Geoff had nearly finished the story, and Awsten was dozing off on the armrest. 

“Wait,” Awsten said quickly when Geoff closed the book. 

The word startled Geoff; he’d thought that Awsten had already fallen asleep. “Yes?”

“Stay here, okay?” he directed, his voice thick with sleep. “If something happens, I wanna know where you are.” He was quiet for a few seconds, but then he sat up and rubbed his eyes.

Geoff watched him in confusion. 

“I can’t sleep,” Awsten told him, and it would have been comical were it not so sad. His hair was sticking out every which way, he was clad in cozy pajamas, and he looked completely exhausted. 

“I will not let any harm come to you,” Geoff promised. “You may rest.” 

“It’s not me I’m worried about.” He motioned to the book. “Do you mind reading more? Or I can just read it myself if you don’t want to. I know you have to get up early tomorrow for school.”

“No, I am happy to continue.” 

Awsten gave him a sleepy smile. “Thanks.”

 

_I guess we must have been talking pretty loud, because the next thing you knew, we attracted a crowd._

_Fight! Fight! Fight!_

_The kids at my school are ALWAYS itching to see a fight. Me and Rowley tried to walk away, but those guys weren’t going to let us go until they saw us throw some punches._

_I’ve never been in a real fight before, so I didn’t know how I was supposed to stand or hold my fists or anything. And you could tell Rowley didn’t know what he was doing either, because he started prancing around like a leprechaun._

_I was pretty sure I could take Rowley in a fight, but the thing that made me nervous was the fact that Rowley takes karate. I don’t know what kind of hocus-pocus they teach in Rowley’s karate classes, but the last thing I needed was for him to lay me out right there on the blacktop._

 

Geoff looked over at Awsten and spent a moment watching him falling asleep sitting up. “Are you truly sure that you prefer me to continue?”

Awsten nodded. 

Miraculously, he stayed awake through the end of the story and long enough to turn on the TV. For almost the entirety of Finding Nemo, he fought valiantly to stay awake, but around three AM, his exhaustion got the better of him and he succumbed to sleep. 

Geoff turned off the movie and got up to retrieve a blanket from the linen closet down the hall. He returned and draped it over Awsten, which caused Tuna to jump down from her spot and let out a meow. Awsten didn’t stir. 

For a moment, Geoff stood beside the lamp, wondering whether or not to turn it off. Certainly it would be beneficial for Awsten to have it on in the case that he woke up and wanted to make sure things were alright. But if the light was off, perhaps he would not wake at all. 

Geoff clicked the lamp off, and the room was instantly enveloped in darkness.

“Goodnight, Awsten,” he whispered. 

There was no response.

 

* * *

 

_October 31, 2014_

_It is very, very early in the morning - nearly three o’clock now - so I apologize for any mistakes that may await you below, historians. I am quite exhausted._

_These past six months have easily been the most stressful time of my entire life. As I keep repeating, Awsten is accompanied by a whirlwind of sadness and trauma that consumes his very soul._

_The latest obstacle is that his abusive, neglectful father has been released early from prison. (I did not know, at first, whether he had been released or he had escaped, but a brief telephone conversation with the prison where he had been held cleared that up.) Awsten is paranoid, although perhaps rightfully so, and anxious, and he has also turned fiercely protective of me. That is new._

_But there are as many good moments with Awsten as there are bad, and truthfully, I would not have him leave. His begging to me tonight not to send him back to his father confirmed that for me - not because he convinced me to let him stay, but because I had already decided before he even began to plead with me. Whatever burden he brings to me next, I will shoulder. He has grown far too important to me to even entertain the idea of casting him out._

_I heard him mention to Clark last month at the library that he views me as his best friend. He is mine as well. That must seem strange, for me to be nearly ten years his age but still consider him so close, but Awsten’s arrival in my life has turned everything upside-down. In a stressful, sad, anxiety-inducing way… but also in the best way. He is, in truth, quite a blessing, and I hope that I am able to continue to enjoy his company for a very long time._

_He is asleep on the couch for now. It has been a long day and an even longer night. I am hoping that he is able to rest peacefully tonight and that tomorrow will be simpler, although I am quite concerned about what state he will be in. He has been entirely on edge about his father, and I do not blame him. Ross Knight sounds like a terrible man (I have not had the displeasure to meet him personally, but I have heard quite enough), and Awsten is convinced that he will bring harm to the both of us should he discover that Awsten is living in my home._

_I can’t imagine such a man; he is lucky to have someone taking care of his child after his wife has passed on and he has been in prison. But instead of gratitude from the father, the child is fearing for the caretaker's safety because of what the father might do… What an utter disgrace._

_I feel that Awsten is mine to look after, my responsibility. His father need not be involved._

 

* * *

**October 31**

Awsten woke with a start from another nightmare. Michael and Otto and Travis and Mr. W and Mom, all wrapped up into one. Still only half awake, his eyes began searching for the walls of his bedroom, but they were nowhere to be found. Just as panic began to set in, his eyes started to adjust, and he realized that he was still in the living room. He sat halfway up and glanced across the space, expecting to see Tuna and Mr. W still in the same place they’d been the night before, but they were nowhere to be found.

Awsten swallowed. His father was out there somewhere. Out there… Or could he be in here? And if he was in here, where was Tuna? Where was Mr. W?

Awsten pulled the blanket around his shoulders and set his feet on the ground as quietly as he could. Then he ran on his tiptoes to Mr. W’s door. In his sleepy, frightened haze, he skipped the knocking and flung the door open.

Mr. W, who had clearly been asleep, nearly jumped out of his skin. “What-?!” he exclaimed, but then his brain must have processed Awsten standing there, because he sat up and demanded, “Whatever do you think you are doing?”

But Awsten had more on his mind. “You were supposed to stay with me!” he accused. “I didn’t know what happened to you! And where’s Tuna?” 

“She’s right here. Awsten you are _never_ to come into my room without knocking. This is my private space.”

“I don’t care! I thought he did something to you!” Awsten cried indignantly.

Mr. W leaned over to turn on his light. The room turned from black to orange - fitting, since today was Halloween. “I understand that. But this is unacceptable.”

“No!” Awsten said louder, his frustration dangerously close to boiling. “He will _kill you_ , do you understand _that_?! Mr. W, he will fucking _kill you_ for trying to help me!”

“Why are you so convinced of that? He never killed the Woods, did he?” 

“No, but this is different! He’s - he - he gets all fucked up, and…” He scowled, his anger thrust back onto the teacher. “You were supposed to stay with me. I told you to, and you said you would, and then you didn’t.” 

“Awsten, I never agreed to-”

“Yes, you _did!_  I said for you to stay with me out there, and you said okay!” 

“Alright,” Mr. W placated, pushing the covers back and standing up. “We need to calm down, yes? Let’s calm down.”

“I don’t want to calm down!” Awsten snapped.

“I can see that. Which is why I am going to make you a cup of tea.”

“I hate your stupid tea,” he said venomously. 

Mr. W replaced the covers and, still in his [pajamas](https://www.vermontcountrystore.com/ultralight-cotton-voile-pajamas/product/71051?utm_source=google&utm_medium=paid%20search&utm_campaign=pla&sourceid=7SPFGPLA&gclid=CjwKCAjw9dboBRBUEiwA7VrrzcFosJUXxvR1MgshiJw0V1brjYyC3HPzaWZjhgbesoxYlyXPMs1Y8hoC-V4QAvD_BwE), walked past Awsten. He headed toward the kitchen and chose to ignore the teenager's rudeness. “Then what would you like?”

“Nothing.” 

“Awsten,” Mr. W said patiently. He paused when he got to the counter and looked at him. “I am not a psychologist, but even I can understand that your anger is not truly directed at me. If you please, I would greatly appreciate it if you would stop treating me as though it was.” 

Awsten huffed and slammed his arms across his chest. 

“Have a seat, please.” 

Awsten did, letting the chair screech across the floor. He slumped into it carelessly. 

Mr. W put a kettle of tea on and then poured a glass of milk for Awsten, which he placed in the microwave. 

Awsten felt a strong pang of sadness, so he rested his still-crossed arms on the table and buried his head in them. 

“It is alright to feel fear and anxiety,” Mr. W said calmly. Soon, the microwave beeped, and instead of sitting at his normal space, Mr. W delivered the milk to Awsten and then sat down adjacent to him. “I do not pretend to know any details about what is going on, but what I do know is that you are welcome in my home as long as you wish. I do not fear your father.”

“You should.”

“Well, I do not. I am much more concerned with you.” 

Awsten looked up and scowled at him. “Then why the hell did you leave?”

“Awsten, I have never left.”

“No, you were supposed to stay with me!” he protested. “You said you would, but you left!” He turned to his teacher, his eyes plainly displaying everything he was feeling. Anger, hurt, fear, sadness, frustration, and exhaustion all right there for Mr. W to see. “You left me. Just like Mom.” 

He dropped his head down into his hands again, and there was a heavy silence. He knew Mr. W was trying to figure out what to say. Instead of words, though, Awsten felt a warm hand gently press against the middle of his back. 

“I did not understand what you were wanting when you made that request,” Mr. W said, sounding so relaxed that Awsten was filled with annoyance. How dare he stay so collected when Awsten was feeling so out of control.

“Yes, you did,” Awsten snapped. It didn’t matter whether it was true.

“No, Awsten, I absolutely did not. I apologize for misunderstanding. But you really cannot be letting yourself into my bedroom.” 

“Fine,” he snapped. “Sorry.” 

He got up from the table and started to stalk away, but Mr. W reached out and caught him by the wrist.

A flash of Otto’s face flickered in Awsten’s mind, and he yanked his arm away. 

“Awsten, please listen to me. I know you are only behaving this way because you are afraid. I do not pretend to know how to help, but I do assure you - you are entirely safe here.” 

Awsten just stared at him.

“You are. Everything is locked; I checked again before I went to bed. We are safe.”

Awsten continued staring. Mr. W was about to speak again when Awsten asked worriedly, “What if he broke a window or something?”

“I am an extremely light sleeper. I would hear it.” 

“What if he broke a window on the third floor on the other side of the house while you were sleeping? Would you hear that?” he challenged.

Mr. W exhaled softly. “No, perhaps not. But that is highly unlikely, and-”

“He’s-”

“ _And_ from what I have gathered about him from the little you have told me, he will have no interest in putting forth such effort in attempt to do… well, anything.” 

He had a point… 

Awsten’s shoulders relaxed a little, and he went back and collapsed into his chair, burying his face in his arms again. Mr. W’s hand returned to Awsten’s back, still and steady. 

“You need sleep,” Mr. W told him, the sincere concern in his voice making Awsten want to cry. 

“No.”

“Yes, you do. You are quite clearly exhausted. Please go upstairs and rest. I will keep watch if it makes you feel better.” 

“No, we have to stay together,” he insisted, picking his head up. “If he comes, I can talk him down. You won’t know how to.”

Mr. W looked at him sadly.

“I know what to say,” he insisted, and he laid back down on the table.

“I understand if it makes you feel better,” Mr. W said softly, “but I’d prefer you at least go to the couch in that case.”

“Too far,” Awsten muttered. 

“No, it’s not. Come.” 

They stood, the glass of warm milk still untouched on the table, and Awsten led the way back to the sofa he’d just gotten up from. 

“You can’t leave this time, okay? For real,” Awsten told him tiredly. He crawled to the armrest and propped a decorative pillow up against it. 

“I will stay.” 

“Okay.” He shut his eyes, reassured. In less than a minute, he felt himself drifting off, but he woke himself up enough to say loudly, “Mr. W?”

“Yes, Awsten.” 

For a second, Awsten almost expected him to say ‘I’m still here,’ but the words didn’t come. It would have been the wrong voice, anyway. 

“Wake me up before you go to school, okay? I don’t wanna sleep here by myself.” 

“Very well.” 

With a tired breath out, Awsten let himself fall asleep. 

He dreamt of standing on the Rainbow Bridge and looking out of the city on a windy night. Lifting his arms out to the sides as he stared at the golden light, he took a step forward and-

“Awsten. _Awsten_.”

Someone was shaking his shoulder. Otto, probably.

“Hm?” he asked in annoyance. “Go away.”

“I am leaving for school.”

“Whatever.” 

Awsten turned over in the bottom bunk, yanking the blanket higher up on his shoulder. Luckily, there was no further disturbance. He hoped he’d be able to get back up onto that bridge. 

 

* * *

 

_I should have woken him. I should have woken him,_ Geoff thought anxiously to himself as he drummed his fingers on his desk. He stood up and walked quickly into the hallway, leaving all of the students in his room unattended. 

“Geoff?” called a voice, and Geoff looked ahead down the hallway to see John. They had hardly spoken since the beginning of the year. Why was he bothering now?

Geoff ignored him.

“Hey, are you okay? You look… awful.” 

“Thank you. I am fine,” he replied in a clipped tone. 

Above them, the warning bell rang. 

Geoff pursed his lips, feeling both dread and panic overwhelm him at the same time.

“What’s wrong?” John asked, walking toward him. 

“Nothing.” He turned around and headed back for his classroom. Maybe teaching would distract him. Awsten was likely sound asleep… which could prove dangerous. But perhaps Geoff was being paranoid now, too. 

“Geoff-”

Geoff glared back at him, a skill he had admittedly learned from Awsten, but it worked. John stopped his pursuit, and Geoff made it back to his classroom in one piece. He shot Awsten a text message - _Please check in if you need anything_ \- and started sorting through his papers and getting ready for the day.

His first class dragged by, and he was ready to go home and check on everything during free period, but just as he dismissed his first class of students, Annie walked in. He looked at her in surprise for a moment but then went about gathering his things and picking up his car keys.

“Where are you going?” she wondered.

“Home. Just for this period. I will return shortly.”

“Why?” 

“There is some business I need to attend to. I assure you, I will be back well in time for my next class.” 

Annie wasn’t having it. “Can you spare a few minutes to talk?” she asked, parking herself at a desk.

“No, I really can’t. I’m sorry.” 

“Just two minutes. Someone let me know that they were concerned about you.”

Geoff blew air out of his nostrils. “John,” he muttered in disgust. He shook his head. “He knows nothing of what has been going on.”

“I thought you and John were friends,” she commented, neither confirming nor denying Geoff's assumption.

He shook his head. “No.”

“What happened between the two of you?” 

“To be frank, it does not concern you. I really must be going-”

“Does this have something to do with Awsten Knight?” 

“No,” he lied.

“Are you sure? Because I ran into his father in town yesterday, and I know that he has been imprisoned for some time.” 

Just then Geoff’s cell phone buzzed. He grabbed at it, looking at the screen. Text Message, it read. A. He unlocked the phone and scanned the words.

 

_Up now. Everythings fine. Sry abt yesterday. Can I borrow ur whiteout?_

_Yes, you may. Would you like me to come home?_ he wrote back. _I can stay for thirty-five minutes._

_No its ok_

 

Geoff exhaled tiredly. 

Annie was still staring at him, her eyes more curious than concerned, but at least she was showing some form of real interest for once. 

Geoff stared back at her for a long moment. She was an insincere woman, but, other than his brief conversations with Lucas or Mary, Geoff had no one to discuss Awsten with, and he wouldn't be able to speak with Lucas until tomorrow. Things felt very pressing today.

With a sigh, he sat back down in his office chair. "I'm not exactly sure where to begin."

She gave him an encouraging smile. "Anywhere."

 

* * *

 

Awsten had dinner on the stove when Geoff got home. “Hi!” the teenager chirped.

Geoff was about to ask Awsten why he was dressed like in all gray (socks, sweats, and a plain t-shirt), but then he turned around, and Geoff could see that his skin was covered in markings - black whiskers and a pink nose.

“Are you… a cat?” he asked hesitantly.

“I’m Tuna!” Awsten replied happily, and Geoff smiled.

“Oh, very nice.”

“Go look at what she’s wearing!” 

“Oh, no,” Geoff murmured, laughing a bit as he wandered off to search for her.

“She was asleep on the couch before. I put her costume on early so she’d have time to get used to it.” 

Geoff traveled into the room where it appeared Awsten had taken a purple shirt and cut it up to make a little apron. It was tied around Tuna’s neck like a superhero cape and also around her middle, resembling a saddle. Geoff crept closer and could see that in little white letters, it read, ‘FroYo Mama’ and, a little up and to the left, he’d Sharpied on a narrow, black rectangle and painted ‘Tuna’ over it in white letters. 

“Did you give her a name tag?” Geoff called.

“Yeah! I borrowed your white-out. I hope that’s okay.”

“It is fine. She looks wonderful.” 

Geoff snapped a quick photo of the snoozing cat and sent it to Mary. _I have discovered that Awsten busied himself costuming my cat today_ , he wrote. _They are now dressed as each other._

Barely a minute later, she sent back, _I love it! He is so sweet_ followed by a laughing emoji and and a purple heart. 

Awsten, it seemed, was antsy for the trick-or-treaters to arrive. He had chosen a (much too large) bag of chocolates and a smaller bag of fruity candy to give out. “In case somebody doesn’t like chocolate,” he’d told Geoff. “I want them to get shit they’re actually excited about.” 

Geoff had never thought of that before. He always been sure to stock up on candy for Halloween, but he just bought a few packs of Hershey bars and gave one to each child. His way might have been simpler, but Awsten’s was much more considerate. He dumped all of it into a giant mixing bowl and said to Geoff, “What do you think, like five each? How many kids come all the way down here?”

Before Geoff had time to respond, the doorbell rang. 

Awsten rushed to open it, and the three kids on the porch all cried, “Trick or treat!” just as Awsten threw his hands in the air and yelled, “Happy Valentine’s Day!” He stopped, took a step back, and scratched at his chin. “Wait, did you say trick or treat?” he asked them.

They all giggled. 

“It’s Halloween today?” 

“Yes!” they laughed. 

“What?! I thought it was Valentine’s Day!”

There was a loud chorus of “No!” followed by more giggles, and then Awsten said, “Oh. I think I need to check my calendar… Well, good thing I’ve got some candy. Hang on. Let me grab it.” He disappeared behind the door to retrieve the bowl and then appeared back in the doorway. “Here, go ahead and pick out five, okay?” He held the bowl down so they could reach in. 

Geoff watched as the children intensely weighed their options, shifting the candy around so that they could be sure to choose the pieces they wanted the most. His eyes moved to Awsten’s face, where he was ever so patiently waiting for them to make their decision. Geoff wondered if Awsten wished he’d been allowed more time on days like these.

When the kids left and Awsten closed the door, Geoff told him, “You are very good with them.”

He immediately shook his head, a sheepish smile creeping onto his lips. “Nah.”

“You are. At the library, too. You could be a teacher.”

Before Awsten could find the words to respond, the bell rang again, and he opened the door to a tiny mermaid and her even tinier cheerleader sister. “Happy birthday!” he cheered.

The two little girls looked at each other and then started to laugh.

Awsten continued the mixed-up holiday charade with Christmas, Thanksgiving, St. Patrick’s Day, Fourth of July, and New Year’s, and Geoff was surprised both by how convincing Awsten was and how much the children seemed to enjoy it. He was, after all, dressed as a cat. Why would anyone dress as a cat for Thanksgiving?  But it didn’t seem to matter.

After all the trick or treating had died down, Awsten plopped on the couch in front of an old children’s film.

“It’s Hocus Pocus,” Awsten told Geoff excitedly. “Wanna watch?”

Geoff had some grading to get to, but for some strange reason, watching a movie with Awsten seemed more important. He sat down on the sofa, and when Awsten pushed the bowl of candy toward him, he actually reached in and took a piece.

“Hey, thanks for letting me do the handing out candy thing,” Awsten said, his eyes on the TV screen. “I was worried about seeing my dad, but this was a good way to, like. Not think about it.”

“You are more than welcome. This is your home now, too.” Geoff didn’t realize until Awsten’s facial expression didn’t change, but he had been expecting Awsten to smile at the words. 

“Yeah,” Awsten murmured. 

When the movie ended, Awsten said quietly, “Can we sleep in here again?” 

Geoff didn’t want to mention that he hadn't actually managed a single moment of rest after Awsten woke him and berated him for being in the wrong room, so he just nodded. “That is fine with me.”

“Okay. I’m gonna go brush my teeth, and I’ll be right back.”

“I will be here.”

“Kay.” 

Awsten returned ten minutes later, having wiped the marker (mostly) off of his face, cleaned his teeth, and changed into pajamas. With the same blanket from the night before and a pillow that he brought down from his bedroom, he got situated on the couch. 

Geoff had already turned off the overhead light and was sitting under the modest glow from the lamp. He had a stack of papers on his lap and a cup of tea brewing in the kitchen. 

“Do you ever sleep?” Awsten complained to him through a yawn. “Or, like, do anything fun? All you do is drink tea and do stuff for school.” 

“It is a fair amount of work.”

Awsten shook his head and laid down on the pillow with another yawn. 

“Would you like a story?” Geoff asked.

“Um… yeah, but I think I’m too tired right now. Maybe later.”

The wording of the response made Geoff smile. “Alright. I will be here if you change your mind.”

Awsten laid his head down and close his eyes. In a quiet voice, he mumbled, “Love you.” 

Geoff faltered, unsure of what to say. Finally, he settled on, “Goodnight, Awsten.”

Awsten did not reply. Within mere moments, he was sound asleep.


	7. November (Part I)

** November 2 **

“I will be back to see all of you next week,” Geoff promised the boys, and he received a flurry of waves and goodbyes and one brief hug. 

When the kids followed Lucas into the kitchen, Zakk walked Geoff to the door. “You sure you wanna drive home right now?” he asked the English teacher with a glance outside. “The radar looks pretty gnarly, and you’ve got a forty-five minute trip, right? You’re welcome to hang here til it calms down. We've gotta start dinner with them, but I can set the TV up for you if you want.”

“Oh, thank you, but I will be alright. Awsten and I are going to attempt to make homemade pasta tonight. I told him that I would be back before five so that we have time to eat it at a decent hour.”

“Dude,” Zakk sighed with a smile, “that sounds amazing.” They traveled out the door and onto the porch. “Hey, when are you gonna tell him that you never stopped coming out here?" Before Geoff could speak, Zakk continued, "I know I said I’d stop asking, but I really want to be able to say, ‘Tell Awsten hi from me,’ and know you’ll actually do it.”

“Maybe someday.”

Zakk clapped him on the shoulder and then pulled him in for a hug. “Okay. Well, when you do, tell him I said hi and I miss him and to be good. Bye, man.” 

Geoff smiled. He took a moment to zip his coat before he went into the cold, dreary afternoon and over to his car, where he sat down behind the wheel and began the journey home. Halfway to Lakeview, it started to rain. 

All weekend, Geoff had been looking forward to breaking out the pasta maker for the first time in years. The arrangement he and Awsten had made the night before was in two parts: first, Geoff would locate the small machine in the basement and bring it upstairs, and second, Awsten would have the ingredients ready to go when Geoff got home so that they could start cooking right away. Once the dough was ready, it would need to chill in the refrigerator, and if they were going to eat it that night, they would need to prepare it quickly. The pasta maker had been on the counter for nearly twenty-four hours, but when Geoff came into the house, the ingredients were nowhere to be found. 

“Awsten?” Geoff called, hoping he wasn’t asleep somewhere. It had been a long few days, so Geoff understood, but it usually took Awsten a good five minutes to fully wake up, and they didn’t have any time to waste. 

Instead of teenage feet thumping down the staircase, Geoff was met instead with a skittering of paws and a loud, long meow. 

“Tuna, where has Awsten gone?” he asked her, bending down.

She meowed again. 

“I cannot understand whatever it is you are trying to say,” he sighed. Then he murmured to himself, “I suppose I could change my clothes.” Perhaps by the time he was finished, Awsten would appear. 

Geoff walked down the hall toward his bedroom and was surprised to see the door flung wide open. He stopped in his tracks, suddenly feeling very anxious about Awsten’s father. Silently, he crept into the room, but a quick search proved that there was no one in the space. 

However, his Rice sweatshirt was thrown on the bed, and his journal was jarringly out of place, lying face-up on the bed with his writing exposed. He walked over to it; a closer look showed him that it was open to the first of July, exactly four months before today.

 

_Today, as some say, has been “a day,”_ the page read in Geoff’s loopy handwriting.

_I spent nearly every waking minute of it with Awsten. Getting used to his presence has been both difficult and good, but today - although it had its positive moments - the entire thing was a challenge. I am not used to comments about everything I do throughout every second of the day. I do not enjoy being told by a teenager that what I have been doing my whole life (avoiding the dishwasher, purchasing spices, etc.) is wrong._

_I invited him on my errands in the hopes that it would be a nice way for him to unwind a little, but it proved only to wind me up._

_Merely looking at him is hard enough on its own; every time I lay eyes on him, I am doused with memories of what took place on the fifth. But he is traumatized as well, even more than I. He frequently “zones out” or snaps at me or is deeply upset by little things that I cannot understand. Even just now, he slammed a book onto the table and disappeared without a word of explanation._

_I find parts of myself looking forward to the day that he departs._

 

With a heavy, anxious breath out, Geoff reached forward and closed the journal. He lifted it to replace it in his nightstand shelf, but underneath the book - and torn in half - was Geoff’s makeshift bookmark, the doodle Emily Haynes had delivered to him just before the start of class one day. It was a line drawing Awsten had done of Tuna with big Harry Potter glasses and a scar shaped like a lightning bolt.

“Oh, no,” Geoff murmured, a hint of urgency in his tone. Raising his voice, he called, “Awsten?” and started toward the staircase. 

He walked up to Awsten’s room, hoping to talk to him about what he’d seen while Geoff had been away, but found it glaringly empty. There were no inside-out socks strewn across the floor and no headphones lying hopelessly tangled on the desk. The bed was made as sloppily as usual, but missing were the clothes that were typically piled at the foot of the mattress and the towel that often hung over the desk chair to dry.

Awsten was gone. 

 

* * *

 

Awsten stared at the door and adjusted his bag on his shoulder. Before he could think too much, he forced himself to knock. 

As he waited, he realized that he hadn’t been here in more than four months. While that much had been painfully clear to him on the walk over, now that he was standing here, it felt like he’d only been gone for a day or two.

Maybe the Woods would feel the same.

Otto’s mom’s car was visible through the garage window, so she was definitely home. He didn’t know whether Mr. Wood was there. Otto probably wasn’t. 

Awsten stood, wondering how long was appropriate before knocking again. Briefly, he thought about how the Woods’ doorbell had broken when he was in third grade and how they’d never gotten it replaced. He wondered if they had while he’d been gone.

He silently counted to ten, then twenty, then twenty-five.

Where was she? She always answered the door, always, always.

So he decided to knock again. He was sure to be louder that time in case she was upstairs with her bedroom door closed or in the kitchen using the mixer or something. But again, she didn’t answer the door.

This time he counted to fifty. His stomach was sinking. Her car was _right there._

“Mrs. Wood!” he called, knocking again. “Are you home? I’m sorry! I just really need to talk to you!”

No response.

Awsten surprised himself by choking up. “I’m sorry!” he repeated, pressing his forehead against the door. 

God, it was fucking cold today.

“Mom, please!”

He went around the back, peering in through the kitchen windows and trying to see through the small gap in the living room curtains, but he had no luck. He knocked on the glass anyway. No one came.

Awsten went back around the front of the house and collapsed onto the front step, leaning back against the door. “Mom?” he pleaded for the third time, and then, pathetically, he lifted his hands to cover his face and began to cry. It was a weak, quiet thing, more out of hopelessness and frustration than sadness, but he’d thought - for some goddamn reason, he’d really, really thought - that she’d answer the door. Maybe if she wouldn’t take him back, she could direct him somewhere, anywhere. But she wasn't even willing to do that. 

He wasn’t going back to the house on Rabbit Hill Road (that was a hideaway, not a long-term solution), and he couldn’t go back to his parents’ home with his father in town. This was his only hope. And she wasn’t letting him in.

“Please, please, please, please,” he begged under his breath over and over. The back of his head made a dull thud against the door with every word. 

 

* * *

As Geoff walked back up to his front door, he set his black umbrella down, cupped his hands in front of his mouth, and exhaled a puff of warm air against his fingers. A shiver ran down his spine. He hurried to reach into his coat pocket for the house key (something he hadn’t done since he’d lived in California) so he could get inside and warm back up. Oh, a mug of hot tea sounded so nice…

“Hello,” Geoff said softly to Tuna, who had appeared to rub against his wet ankles. He locked the door behind himself and went right into the kitchen where he put a kettle on. He turned to get a teabag while it heated up, but as he did, he noticed a folded piece of paper on the island. 

He stopped in his tracks and stood stock still, staring at it. He could see his own name written on it in Awsten’s handwriting, the same hurried scrawl from his essays and exams. With a swallow, Geoff forced himself back to the stove, where he turned the burner off and took a slow breath. And then he returned to the counter and, with trembling hands, lifted the letter, carefully opening it.

 

_Dear Mr. W,_

_I want to say that I’m really sorry if I was annoying or bad to you, I didn’t mean to be. I just talk before I think about what I’m saying. I’m sorry for asking about Clara Rose and all the times I said your tea smelled weird and I’m sorry for not talking about you and only talking about me and I’m sorry for yelling at you when you didn’t get that I wanted you to sleep in the family room. I am so sorry that I was a burden to you._

_Your right, what you said in your diary. Everything with me is just problems and more problems so I am going to take all my problems and go away so no one has to deal with them anymore. I won’t even -_

 

Geoff grabbed for his cell phone to make a call, but before he could, he saw a text message from Mr. Wood that had been sent just a few moments before. It read, _Ida Jones said Awsten stopped by our house with a duffle bag. He was gone before we got home. Call us._

Geoff opted to perform a quick Google search for a phone number instead. He was briefly sidetracked but found his way to the answer. Seconds later, a voice came through the tinny speaker. 

“Harris County PD, this is Officer Knox. How may I direct your call?”

“Hello,” Geoff greeted, hoping that he didn’t sound as frazzled as he felt. “My… My…” His what? His student? Housemate? Friend? “My teenager,” he settled on, “is missing. I wasn’t sure who to contact for help…” 

“How old?”

“He is eighteen.” 

His phone beeped to signal that he was getting another call. Hopefully, he glanced at it, but it was coming from Mary, not Awsten. He stayed on the line, still nauseous from the sight of the entire governmental database he’d stumbled upon mere moments before. It was filled with hundreds of photographs of missing people from the state, none of whom had ever been found. 

“Alright. Where are you calling from?”

“I am in Lakeview.”

“Okay. There’s no waiting period to file a report in Texas, but I’m going to have to redirect you to the sheriff in your town.”

“I understand. Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome. Good luck, sir.” 

Something made a clicking noise, and then the line went quiet. Geoff lightly drummed his fingers on the table as he waited. 

Mary’s call stopped beeping. 

The world went silent. 

Geoff closed his eyes. _Awsten, please come home safely,_ he begged.

And then there was another voice. 

“You’ve reached Sheriff Brown’s office. Deputy Elliot speaking.”

“Hello, Jacob. This is Geoff Wigington,” he said, his nerves swirling in his stomach. 

“Oh, hey, Mr. W! How are you?”

“I am well, but I am calling to report a missing person.” 

“Oh, no,” Geoff’s former student responded sadly. “Okay. Hold on one second for me.” There was a rustling, and then the deputy prompted, “Name, age, and how long they’ve been gone.”

“Awsten Knight. He is eighteen. I last saw him around one PM, but I think he was home for a while after that.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, and Geoff could hear a keyboard clicking in the background. “So maybe four or five hours?”

“Yes.”

“Since he’s eighteen, is it possible he went out with some friends or headed to work and forgot to let anybody know?”

“No, no - he left a letter.” 

Sharply, the deputy asked, “A suicide note?”

“Oh - let me check,” Geoff said quickly, his stomach turning as he looked down at the piece of paper again. "I'm sorry; I'm afraid I didn't read it in its entirety before I called."

 

_Your right, what you said in your diary. Everything with me is just problems and more problems so I am going to take all my problems and go away so no one has to deal with them anymore. I won’t even have to deal with them anymore since almost all of them are here. I know this is better for everybody, I should have done it a long time ago._

_I will miss you and I will miss Tuna and I care about you both so much. Like so much. Fuck I’m crying. I am sorry Mr. W I’ve never been so sorry for anything in my life except what happened with Otto and the incident at school but I’m really fucking sorry and I wish I could start over here and do all of it better but that’s not a choice so I’ll start over somewhere else._

 

He scanned all of the paragraphs, but no mention of Awsten ending his life jumped out. “No, I do not believe that it is. He merely explained that he is going away for a fresh start.” 

“Okay, I see. Is he over seventeen?" 

"Yes; he is eighteen."

"Alright. He's too old to be a runaway, then, but we can classify him as a missing person if you'd like."

"Yes, please."

"Okie-dokie." There were some more keyboard noises, and then he said, "Let me get some more intel from you, okay? When’s his birthday?”

Geoff faltered. “I… I do not know. It was at the end of May, one Saturday after graduation… As we discussed, he is eighteen now…” Geoff hurried to flip back through his pocket calendar and locate the box he had marked with _Awsten surprise party. “_ May thirty-first.”

“So, ninety-six?”

“Yes, that sounds correct.” Some quick mental math later, he confirmed again, “Yes.” 

“Can you tell me what he was wearing when you saw him last?” 

The conversation went on with Geoff providing every bit of information that he could, and when the questions finally ran out and he hung up, he felt more discouraged than he had before he called. There were so many unknowns, and if Awsten didn’t want to be found…

Geoff moved to check the voicemail from Mary, but before he could, his entire screen lit up; Mr. Wood was calling.

"Hello?"

“Hi, Geoff.”

“Hello,” he repeated. Before he could ask _Have you heard anything from Awsten?_ Mr. Wood continued.

“I don’t know if you saw my message, but we got a phone call earlier from some neighbors that said they saw Awsten out in front of our door this afternoon. Is he with you?”

“Yes, I did receive it,” Geoff replied, “ and no, he isn’t. What happened?”

“Apparently, he was sitting on the front step crying. They don’t know how long he was out there, but they said he only stayed a minute or two after they noticed him.” 

“Oh, my word,” Geoff murmured. “Did they tell you what time? I just filed a missing person’s report with the sheriff's department, and they asked about that. Oh, did they happen to notice which clothes he was wearing?”

“They called around four to say he’d just gotten up and left and that it just wasn’t sitting right with them. They didn’t say what he was wearing, no, but I can call back and ask.”

“Yes, please do. I...” Geoff glanced down, and Awsten's words drew his attention.

 

_If I ever make friends again I will be nicer to them and ask them more about how they are and not try to boss them into doing what I think they should do. And if I don’t ever make friends that will be better probably so they don’t have to worry about all the bullshit that happens to me and I don’t accidentally treat them badly like I did to you._

_If you see my dad please don’t tell him you had anything to do with me cause I don’t want him to hurt you. I’m mad but I’m only mad at me not you. I get why you didn’t like me. I’m really sorry Mr. W and I want to say thanks for being a much better dad to me than he ever was even if it was only for a little while and even though I am difficult._

 

Geoff folded the letter back up before he could read anything more. “I desperately need to speak with him,” he finished, trying not to get emotional. _A much better dad… Oh, Awsten._

“Well, that’s the thing,” Mr. Wood said regretfully. “Ida said he had a big bag of stuff.”

“Yes - all of his things have been removed from his bedroom.”

“She said he got up and started walking toward the lake, but my wife and I have checked twice, and he’s not there.” 

“I looked as well.” He couldn’t help it; he unfolded the paper again.

 

_I will miss your house and your cat and walking with you outside and having dinner with you every night but I will miss you the most. I know you don’t want to hear this, I guess I’m doing it again and writing this note mostly for me. But you won’t hear from me again, promise. I hope you will be happier and you can go back to your peaceful life. Also I’ve been praying for your mom and your grandma a little, I hope they’re o.k. and maybe with God if he’s up there. Right now I think he’s not but sometimes I think that he really is. I thought he was when I came here to live with you cause of something Jon said about looking for God’s love, I kinda saw it in you. Whatever. It’s dumb._

 

 

“Perhaps he is hiding,” Geoff suggested softly as even more fear and sadness crept into his chest.

 

_Anyway I’m sorry again. Sorry I keep saying it but I really am sorry. Please tell Tuna I love her and that I’m sorry I had to go. I think she is the only person in the world who will miss me. She is the best cat ever and I almost took her with me but I got scared she would get lost and that would be mean to you if I did that anyway._

 

“No, son, I don’t think so. I think he finally did it.”

 

_I’m sorry there’s spots on the paper now, I can’t stop fucking crying._

 

Worriedly, Geoff asked, “Did what?”

 

_Your the best teacher I ever had, I meant that when I said it a while back. You changed my life and I will always be thankful for that. I hope you have a good rest of the school year and I’m sorry that I’m a little mad at you even though this whole fucking thing is my fault._

 

Mr. Wood sighed quietly, and it sounded crackly over the line. “I think he finally up and left.” 

 

_I won’t bother you again._

_\- Awsten_

 

 

* * *

 

“Dammit,” Mr. Wood muttered, glancing at Geoff in the passenger seat before returning his gaze to the wet road. “He left one for us on the porch. We could hardly read it since it got all rained on, but from what we could make out, it was an apology, too. Another one that wasn’t necessary.”

With tears threatening to well up in his eyes, Geoff took a moment to stare down at the post-script that he had omitted as he vaguely summarized the note for Otto’s father. Then he folded Awsten’s letter and carefully tucked it into the inner pocket of his jacket. 

“I… need to tell you some things,” Mr. Wood said, taking one hand off of the steering wheel to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck.

Geoff looked over at him.

“The first is that I saw you two walking in town once. I wasn’t spying or anything, just happened to catch you walking out of Carson's while I was walking in. He was talking to you. I couldn’t hear a word he was saying, but you know how he is, waving his hands and smiling. And the way he looked at you…” Mr. Wood shook his head. “Geoff, that boy adores you.” 

“Yes,” Geoff responded softly, hanging his head.

“No, I don’t mean a little. There’s only one other person he looks at the way he was looking at you.”

Geoff’s eyebrows knitted together. “Who?”

“My wife.”

Geoff was silent for several seconds. Finally, he replied, “I see.”

Mr. Wood nodded and turned on both his blinker and his brights, slowing down to make a left turn onto a narrow cross-street that led toward the sheriff's station. The trees lining the road formed a seemingly-endless arch for the car to pass under. “He may think you’re mad, but just know that it’s not on you. His parents did that to him, got him wired to be scared all the time. He thought my wife and I were mad at him all the time when he was growing up. Hell, he probably thinks his Mama hates him right now. She doesn’t, not one bit. She misses him, wants to see him. It’s killing her. Tells me every day.” 

Geoff stayed quiet.

“But his parents were - are - evil, you know? Just pure evil. Leaving a child alone like that, they way they did? Treating him so bad that he - that we had to…” He shook his head. “There’s another thing… There’s a reason he is closer with my wife than with me.” He cleared his throat. “To be honest with you, son, I don’t wanna admit this, cause I don’t wanna sound like a mean old jerk. Don’t wanna sound like I’m gloating, either. But I stayed away from him as much as I could because I always knew that something like this was coming.” 

Curiously, Geoff looked over at him.

“I didn’t know what it would be, but I figured either he’d disappear, his parents would wind up killing him, or he’d kill himself.”

At the disturbing sentence, Geoff’s eyes widened.

“My wife wouldn’t listen to me when I’d tell her that. She wanted to do whatever she could for him no matter what might happen down the line, and I’ll be the first to say that it was the brave thing. But I… I knew that whenever it did happen, whatever _it_ was, I would be the one that had to hold my family together. Otto would lose his best friend, my wife would lose a child, and I… I would be left to pick up all the pieces. So I kept him at arm’s length.” He shook his head. “Not saying it was wrong or that I regret it, because I don’t know if I would change it. Right now, though, it feels like I should have given in just like she did.”

The car was uncomfortably quiet since Geoff had no idea how to respond.

Sensing the awkwardness, Mr. Wood cleared his throat and said gruffly, “He knows that I care about him. Or, at least, I hope that he does. I taught him to shave. I taught him to drive.” He shook his head. “He’s our son in all the ways he could be; we rented his suit for prom, we taught him to swim, we took him on vacation a few times, we even signed school permission slips for him. He’s on practically every page of the scrapbooks my wife makes. But I could never let myself really love him. And he’s always been able to tell.” 

“Children are aware of much more than we give them credit for,” Geoff murmured, unsure of what else to say.

Mr. Wood nodded. “How’s he doing? Otto’s still having a hell of a time, but I always hoped Awsten was doing… better.” 

Geoff pursed his lips. “His moods are erratic. He misses you and your wife and son very, very much. He won’t say it outright, but I can tell.” Geoff hesitated since they were almost to their destination but then decided to ask, “Were you aware that his father is back in town?”

“Yeah, one of the neighbors mentioned that. I figured you had it under control.” 

“Not exactly,” Geoff confessed regretfully. “Neither of us knew until Awsten saw him a few feet away in the grocery store. He is fairly certain that his father did not see him, and Mr. Carson helped us to… escape, but he has been operating in a state of hypervigilance ever since. I fear that it has set him back considerably. He came and woke me in the earliest hours of the morning that same day, concerned for my well-being. We have been sleeping on the sofas for the past few nights because he is afraid to sleep upstairs and let me or my cat out of his sight.”

“Damn,” Mr. Wood murmured.

“He has been having awful nightmares this entire time, and n-” Geoff suddenly stopped talking, freezing completely. His mind had filled with the sound of Awsten's distressed sobs. 

Mr. Wood stared at him. “Son?”

“I know where he went,” Geoff said quietly.

“What?”

“ _I know where he went._ He did not run away to somewhere random; I believe that I know where he is. You need to turn the car around. Please.”

Mr. Wood did immediately, making a three-point turn in the middle of the two-lane road. “Where're we headed?” 

“My home. I think he went into the forest.”

 

* * *

 

Awsten’s hand stung. The icy rain pelted it incessantly as he walked through the woods, his sneakers smushing the shiny, wet leaves deeper into the mud.

“You’re fine,” he muttered to himself, and he squeezed his eyes shut to combat the pain in his fingers. He wanted desperately to put his hand in his pocket even if only just to stop the stinging, but he’d been holding the hood of his jacket up for so long, and…

Fuck it. What did it matter if his hair got wet?

The instant he let go of the soaked fabric, it blew back, snapping loudly in the wind. Awsten’s face, ears, and hair were greeted instantly by freezing water and searing gusts. He winced at the sensations, but he quickly stuffed his raw, red fingers into his coat pocket, finding a reprieve from the pain. While the windbreaker wasn’t warm, it provided a dry space, and for that, Awsten was more than thankful.

“Okay,” he whispered to himself, desperately glancing around. “It’s fine. You’re fine.”

But he wasn’t fine; this was the furthest he’d been from fine in quite a while. He was cold and wet and lost and alone, and worst of all, the sun had sunk halfway already.

Awsten shivered and ducked underneath a sturdy tree. The raindrops there were fewer and further between, but they were easily four times the size, and they pelted him twice as hard.

“I’m gonna die here,” Awsten said softly, the sudden realization so much more chilling than the air around him.

He looked up at the leaves above him, and a wide raindrop smacked him in the forehead. He almost removed his hand from his pocket to wipe the water away, but then he remembered how horribly frigid the air was and just let it sit.

“I’m gonna die here,” he repeated as it trickled down the side of his face.

He swallowed thickly, rolled his shoulders back, and resumed walking.

 

* * *

 

“Honey, it’s pouring!” Mary cried over the sound of the rain. She had met them at Geoff’s house, and the police were on their way. “We need to wait! What if you go missing, too?”

“I won’t; I know my way.”

“That far? Even in the dark, in this weather?!” 

No. But he had to try. “He will certainly be lost,” Geoff stated, “and I do not like the idea of him out there by himself.” 

“This is ridiculous, Geoff,” Mr. Wood added. He held a hand above his eyes in an attempt to see a little better through the downpour. “Let the policemen do their job.” 

“I cannot wait,” Geoff protested, shaking his head. “He is out there alone, and I need to explain myself-”

“Honey, this is hardly the time,” Mary told him. She came forward to squeeze his already-cold hands. 

“What if it were Otto?” he demanded, his gaze remaining on her for a second before cutting back to Mr. Wood. “You would merely stand here and wait?”

The other man replied without a thought. “ _Yes_ , Geoff. It’s like swimming into a rip current to try and save somebody. We’ll get him back. I promise. But this isn’t safe.”

Geoff just shook his head. “Straight back and to the right,” he told Mary. “I cannot be sure that that is where he will be, but that is where he was trying to go. Straight back and to the right.” And without another word, he disappeared through the wall of sunflowers and into the woods. 

 

* * *

 

Awsten hitched his bag over his shoulder as he looked for someplace to sit down. Every finger was numb, every toe was screaming in pain. His ears burned from the cold. His hands were tinted blue. Wasn’t it supposed to stay relatively warm in Texas, even in November? Fuck this stupid rainstorm.

He wanted Mom to come get him out of here. He wanted to crawl back to Mr. W and go home with him. He wanted to apologize to Otto and hug him tight and forget that any of this stupid shit ever happened. As he walked, he began to pretend that they were coming for him, all three of them. They would be there any second with umbrellas and blankets and clean, dry clothes and hand warmers and hot soup to heat him from the inside out. Not angry. Just warm. And maybe a little bit happy to see him, too.

“Help,” Awsten whispered. Speaking made his lips hurt. “Please, somebody help me.”

It must have worked, because the longer Awsten walked, the warmer he got. In what felt like no time at all, he was setting the black duffle on the ground so he could strip off his windbreaker. He left it right there on the leaves and picked his bag back up, figuring he could come back for it when the weather was better. If he made it out alive. And if he didn’t, it wouldn’t matter anyway. 

“Not too much further,” he murmured to himself, feeling a little dazed. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You can do this.” 

 

* * *

 

“Awsten!” Geoff yelled, scanning from left to right in the dark. “Awsten, where are you? Awsten!”

There was no response. And there was no way his voice was traveling far at all in this weather even with his hands cupped around his mouth. 

He’d been walking briskly for nearly thirty minutes when he came across a bicycle. He was filled with both relief and dread; yes, that meant Geoff was going in the right direction… but Awsten had abandoned his most prized possession. He wouldn’t go anywhere without his bike. 

Geoff stopped and dialed Mr. Wood, praying that he still had signal all the way out there. He did. 

“Did you find him?” Mr. Wood demanded in lieu of a greeting.

“No, although I found his bicycle.” 

“Okay. Stay there. The police went in about twenty minutes ago. They’ll get to you soon, I’m sure.”

“No, I cannot stay. Something is incredibly wrong; he would never willingly abandon this. He’s out here somewhere, and it is my responsibility to locate him.” 

“Geoff-”

“I am sorry,” he said, although he wasn’t, and he hung up the phone without another word. He started forward and, feeling recharged, shouted, “Awsten!” 

 

* * *

 

Up ahead, Awsten spotted a tree that looked sturdy. He stumbled toward it, his teeth chattering so hard that it almost hurt. He’d been walking for what felt like hours. Maybe it really _had_ been hours. He had no idea where he was, and his clothes were soaked through, and he was confused and hungry and tired and hot and - did he already say confused? 

This was the fucking Blair Witch Project, and he was about to be her next victim. Although maybe it wouldn’t actually be that bad getting snatched up by that old hag since at least she had a house. A dry house. Even if it wasn’t cold, it would be dry. He’d give her a piece of his soul for that, or whatever the hell is she did to those people. Ate them, maybe. It would probably be cold in her witch stomach. Awsten could go there.

“A piece, a piece, a piece,” he babbled out loud, half-singing about sacrificing his soul as he grew nearer to the tree, tripping every few steps.

Awsten fell to his knees and curled up against the wet trunk, burrowing into it as best he could without hurting himself further. He pulled the collar of his t-shirt up over his mouth, his hot breath bouncing back onto his chin and making his body start to shiver all over again. He started to chew on the fabric instead as he squinted out into the rain.

“Mr. W?” he slurred sleepily. “Otto? Mom? Where are you?” His eyes fell shut, and the shirt slipped out of his mouth. “I don’t wanna walk anymore… Just wanna rest…”

Despite all the wind and rain, the woods felt silent. Awsten started drifting off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Ten more minutes passed. Twenty. Twenty-five.

No sign of Awsten.

“Please,” Geoff whispered, tapping his fingers anxiously against the side of his thighs. He hadn’t actually changed clothes when he’d arrived home since he found the journal before he got to the closet, so now he was out in the rain and the mud in dress clothes.

A hot surge of anger zipped through him. If Awsten had just stayed out of Geoff’s room like he’d been asked, none of this would be happening. No misconceptions, no cold weather, no missing child. He may have been a legal adult, but to Geoff, he was a child. 

This was hopeless. Geoff felt helpless. But more, he was concerned. 

Even if departure was in Awsten’s best interest, Geoff would (perhaps selfishly) miss him. He would miss having someone to converse with and recommend books to. He would miss having company in the car and at the grocery store and on his walks. Maybe he wouldn’t miss all of the new things he’d been forced to try or the myriad of complaints he was forced to sit through, but Awsten had become his family. His only family. Geoff was not going to stand by and lose the only member he had left without a fight. 

“God… if you are… if you are listening to me…” He shook his head. Too strange, too ridiculous. Instead, he stopped walking and closed his eyes. Softly, he whispered, “Mother… Mom. I know you are gone, but please, can you see him? Can you tell me where… where I should go?” He hung his head. “I don’t know where to find him.” 

Geoff was far too afraid to pull Awsten’s letter out of his jacket pocket because it would be immediately drenched and ruined, and if that was the last communication with Awsten Geoff ever had - whether he would up dead or alive - Geoff would never forgive himself for destroying it. Instead, he pictured the words scrawled across the bottom of the page in Awsten’s messy handwriting.

 

_PS, I meant what I said when we watched Gravity Falls._

 

Geoff shifted his attention back to God. If there was anyone that Geoff could have as a last resort, it would be the God that the minister had talked about at FutureFaith. The strong fortress, the all-knowing, safe, loving being. Who was Geoff to ask him for anything? But this wasn’t exactly a wish. This was life or death.

The realization chilled Geoff to the bone. Awsten could die. He could really, truly die. Not just disappear, but… die.

And it would be entirely Geoff’s fault. 

 

_I meant what I said when we watched Gravity Falls._

 

The teacher looked into the canopy of branches, squinting up into the raindrops that pelted his face as he reverted to his last resort. “Please!” he called hoarsely. “Please help me to find him. Or if I cannot find him, please him get somewhere safe. Please. I…” Geoff pressed his lips together into a line. “If you are who people say you are, if you can do the things that they claim you can, then you already know everything there is to know - about him, about me, about all that is going on right now. The only thing I am asking is for you to help him. Please. If that’s without my presence, so be it. But please, protect him. He is only a child. He is not at fault here.” 

Geoff wasn’t exactly expecting a neon sign, but when literally nothing happened after a handful of seconds, he felt intensely discouraged. “Alright, then,” he murmured to himself, and he kept working. It was worth a try.

 

_I meant what I said._

 

Less than two minutes later, Geoff head a snapping noise. It almost sounded like a tarp. Geoff turned and pointed his phone’s flashlight, and there, several yards away, was Awsten’s thin windbreaker. Geoff bolted toward it and picked it up.

“Awsten!” Geoff shouted, clutching the jacket tightly. “Awsten!” He turned in a slow circle, looking every which way through the rain, but it was to no avail. Geoff started in the direction that he’d found the jacket, which was somewhat off-course. He hoped that it hadn’t blown away from where it had started and thrown him off, but perhaps Awsten had just lost it a few moments before. Although, why he would take his jacket off in this freezing downpour, Geoff had no idea. 

He walked on for several long minutes, shouting Awsten’s name, pleading with him, asking for him to come out if he was hiding.

“Awsten, I know that you believe that I am angry with you, but I am not!” he called to the forest. “I only want to help! Please, if you can hear me-” 

But before Geoff could complete his sentence, the beam from his cell phone lit up a shape on the ground. 

“Awsten?” he whispered. “Oh my word.” He stood still for several seconds, just staring at Awsten slumped against the tree in the pouring rain. He looked small again. His white t-shirt was practically see-through from all the water soaking it, and his wet hair was plastered to his forehead. He was drenched from head to toe, and it was freezing. He had nothing protecting him. 

Geoff stared and stared. 

This was the loud, careless kid who’d disrupted his class nearly every day the previous year. This was the boy who scribbled in pen on the tops of desks and swore in front of anyone he pleased but who also went out of his way to bring coffee for the other students in case they needed cheering up or were keeping any negative feelings under wraps. This was the student who failed tests, who spent every morning intentionally frustrating Geoff to no end, and who was the only recipient of a detention from Geoff in the history of Lakeview High School. This was the same child who had run through the courtyard covered in blood, straight into Geoff’s arms. Who begged to hear a story. Who had sobbed at the lake. Who laughed with his whole body, who depended on Geoff for food and a home, who loved Geoff’s little cat with his entire heart... and here he was, unconscious and not even shaking from the cold. 

Geoff wondered whether he was inches from death or already there.

That thought snapped him to attention. He hurriedly unzipped his own jacket and yanked it off, shaking as much water off of the material as he could before he draped it over Awsten’s front and jammed his hand into his pocket for his cell phone. He skipped calling Mr. Wood and went straight to dialing 911. 

They gave him two instructions - first, not to move Awsten even the slightest bit but to speak to him and do his best to warm him with body heat. Geoff wasn’t sure how helpful his own cold hands would be, but they had to be at least slightly warmer than Awsten’s. Geoff set the phone on speaker and put it face-up on the ground, beads of rain coating it in seconds as he slipped his arms under the jacket and found Awsten’s hands. He lightly rested his own fingers over them and hoped that it would do something, _anything_ to help. Second, he was to use a function he didn’t know his phone even had to send his location to Mr. Wood, who would then share it with the police. He managed it with one hand, trying to keep Awsten’s fingers warm with the other. Once that was done, all there was to do was wait. 

And so they waited, Geoff and Awsten and the 911 operator.

“It’s alright,” Geoff softly promised the teenager. “It will be over soon. I will not leave you.” And Geoff, trembling himself in the storm without his coat, began to make up a story about a little cat named Tuna and the adventures that she went on in her big house when she was home alone. 

 

* * *

 

SLAM.

Awsten jolted awake into blackness. He sat up and looked all around, but there was nothing. No one. Just endless black. 

_Where am I? Am I dead?_

He lifted his hands up in front of his face, but he couldn’t see them. It was far too dark. Yeah… probably dead. For some reason, he didn’t really care about that. 

But then came the screaming. Someone was wailing, shrieking, loud and incessant. Briefly, Awsten wondered if someone had found his body, but the noise didn’t stop or slow down, even after several minutes. 

It was hot and uncomfortable and dark, and he was getting scared because his skin was burning, burning, burning, and the screaming wouldn’t stop. Everything was starting to feel overwhelming.

Panicked, Awsten silently began to plead, _Please don’t send me to Hell. I don’t want to go to Hell. Please. I’m not a bad person._

He slipped back into the nothingness.

 

* * *

 

Geoff stared down at Awsten, two tears streaming down his cheeks. He wrapped both of his hands around one of Awsten's, careful not to hurt him, and said softly, "You do not have to be good." He paused and cleared his throat in hopes of getting the sounds of sadness out of it. "You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves."

He could feel eyes watching him, but he continued anyway.

"Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again."

He paused again, this time to cover his eyes for a moment while his voice wobbled. "Whoever you are... no matter how lonely... the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese-" He broke off to let out a quiet sob. "-harsh and exciting, over and over a-announcing your place in the family of things." 

He wiped at his eyes again with the blanket and sniffed. He thought for several moments. "I go down to the edge of the sea," he muttered, concentrating intensely. "How... everything shines in the morning light. I don't remember... "

There was a long silence, and then, with an empty laugh, he confessed, "I cannot remember anything else. I am sorry, Awsten. My mind is blank at the moment, and I cannot recall anything of use. I know you do not often like to hear things twice, but I truly cannot remember anything else..." And he hung his head and allowed himself to cry, just for a moment. He pulled himself together quickly and said, "I shall tell you again. Please forgive me." He used the blanket resting on his shoulder to wipe at his eyes and then began again.

"You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting..." 

 

* * *

 

 

Awsten came back to his senses some time later, feeling weightless and warm and also feeling PAIN. Pain with all capital letters. If this was death, he wanted to go back to life. If this was life, he longed for death. He yelled, but no sound reached his ears. He didn’t have a mouth anymore, didn’t have a body. He was a soul comprised entirely of agony. 

The screaming… maybe it had been him all along. Maybe, he thought, this really was Hell.

Dead. 

Yes. 

He was dead for sure. 

Floating and warm and excruciating and dark and dead. He would definitely vomit from the pain if he were alive. But he wasn’t, so it didn’t matter, except that the only thing keeping him from sinking into the darkness was the hurt. He missed the darkness. 

After a while, the weightlessness stopped, but Awsten kept groaning and crying and shouting. No words, just shapeless, soundless noise. Just pain.

It built and built until Awsten couldn’t take it anymore, and he faded away again.

 

* * *

 

The waiting room was silent regardless of the fact that it was filled with people - mostly of Awsten’s support system. Geoff hadn’t realized just how extensive it was until everyone was out in front of him at once. To his left sat Mr. and Mrs. Wood, and to his right were Lucas (who was texting with Zakk every few minutes), the minister from the church, the minister’s assistant, and a man that Geoff didn’t recognize. 

Lucas’ phone buzzed again, and he pulled it out of his pocket and sighed softly. He stared at it for a few seconds and then murmured to Geoff, “Zakk’s begging me to call. I keep telling him no since there’s no update, but he’s all worried since we just had a kid in here a couple months ago.”

"Yes, how is Luke?" Geoff asked, his eyebrows crinkling in concern. He was thankful for a distraction at last.

"I don't know," Lucas answered regretfully. "As soon as we brought him here, he wasn't Peace and Purpose's anymore. I stayed with him as long as they let me, but eventually, social services took back over, and..." He trailed off. 

At first, Geoff thought this was from sadness, but a glance at him showed that Lucas's eyes were focused across the room. As Geoff followed his gaze, everyone straightened up. 

With red eyes, a sniffling Otto walked in from the hall that led to the room Awsten was being monitored in. The teenager scanned the row of adults, and when he saw Lucas, his eyes welled with tears again. He started toward the counselor, who stood, and they met in an embrace.

“He’s fine,” Otto noted, his voice cracking. He was speaking loudly enough to address everyone even though his face was buried in Lucas’ shoulder. He cleared his throat. “Nothing changed, I just…”  He shook his head and lowered his voice. The words were supposed to be just for Lucas to hear, but Geoff was close enough that he caught the sentence as well.  “I just couldn’t be in there anymore. I couldn’t see him like that.”

“I understand,” Lucas assured him softly.

“I know,” Otto replied tearfully. “You’re the only one who can.” 

Geoff briefly wondered if, perhaps a long time ago, something had happened to Zakk. 

“Honey, do you want to go see him next?” Mrs. Wood asked. 

No one responded, so Geoff turned toward her to see who she’d been speaking to. She was looking right at him.

“Oh,” he said in surprise upon realizing that her question had been directed at him. “No, you are his mother. You should go.”

She gave him a sad look. “Go on, baby.” 

Geoff glanced at Lucas. He was stilling hugging Otto to his chest, but he nodded. 

“Are you sure?” Geoff asked, looking back at her.

“Yes.” She subtly motioned to Otto and said under her breath, “He needs me more than Awsten does right now.”

Shakily, Geoff stood and walked out of the waiting room and down the hallway. It was the middle of the night, so everything was fairly quiet despite the white, fluorescent lights. Geoff’s footsteps echoed against the tile as he checked the numbers on each door, trying to remember which room the nurse from half an hour ago had said that Awsten would be in. 

“Are you lost?” a young, black woman asked. She was wearing periwinkle scrubs, and she’d poked her head out of one of the rooms. 

“Yes, actually, I am,” Geoff admitted. “I am looking for Awsten Knight.”

“Oh! Well, he’s right in here with me.” She motioned him in.

“Thank you,” Geoff said softly. He paused just outside the doorway, though, not sure he could handle seeing Awsten again. It had been painful enough just locating him and transporting him here. The waiting room had been emotionally safer. He crossed his arms over his chest and debated going back to his chair, though Otto had probably filled it by then. Oh, goodness.

The woman appeared again in the doorway. “You okay?” 

Geoff opened his mouth and then closed it. 

“You nervous to see him?” 

He wanted to respond, but he wasn’t sure how.

“Why don’t I walk you through what’s going on in there?” 

He nodded gratefully.

“Okay. Let’s start with me. I’m Tanisha,” she told him, using her manicured fingernail to tap twice on her name badge. “I’m Awsten’s nurse. I’ll be here until ten in the morning. My job is to stay in the room and keep an eye on him, which is really easy right now since he’s not exactly conscious yet.” She smiled. “He’s under a little mountain of blankets, and we’re gonna keep him there until he starts sweating. Then we’ll pull a little off at a time. We’re also taking his temperature a lot.” 

Geoff nodded.

“He’s a little splotchy,” she continued, “but that will clear up in time. He’s got some IVs going, and they’re putting warm liquid into him to warm him up on the inside, but there are no tubes in his nose or his throat or anything. He doesn’t even have an oxygen mask.” She gave him another smile. “It’s okay. You wanna come see him?” 

He hesitated.

“He’s probably getting a little lonely since his friend left.”

“Is he awake?” Geoff asked in confusion.

“No, but I always treat my patients like they can hear, because a lot of the time, it turns out they can. And since now nobody’s talking to him…” 

Geoff pursed his lips anxiously.

“What color are his eyes?” she wondered, helping him stall for a moment. “I never know until anybody wakes up, so I started asking a couple weeks ago.” 

“They are…” Geoff swallowed. “They are two different colors. It is quite subtle; I didn’t notice until he pointed it out to me, but afterwards, I could not help but notice it all the time. One is blue, and the other is more hazel.” 

“That sounds pretty cool.” 

Geoff nodded.

There was an awkward pause, but she filled it fairly quickly but asking, “You ready to come in? There are two chairs, and you can move them wherever you want. His friend was sitting right on the edge of the bed with him. Oh, and that reminds me - you can touch him, but the doctors have asked that you don’t move him. His blood’s gotta get used to flowing like normal again. They don't want us to mess it up.” 

With a thick swallow, Geoff followed her into the room.

Under a thick pile of blankets laid Awsten, who looked mostly like he did when he was asleep on the sofa in Geoff’s living room. He was, as Tanisha mentioned, a little splotchy. Some parts of his skin looked pink, others were slightly purple, and some were pale and white. But he was breathing, and he was out of the rain and the cold. That was all Geoff could ask for. 

“You can sit,” she told him, motioning to the plastic chairs beside the bed. One was smeared against a set of cabinets, but the other was pulled close to Awsten’s left shoulder. Geoff assumed that’s where Otto had been. 

Carefully and quietly as not to disturb Awsten’s rest, he pulled the closer chair back a few feet and then took a seat. 

The room was quiet; behind the sound of Awsten's heart monitor, Geoff could literally hear the clock ticking on the wall behind him. He glanced at it and was surprised to see that it was nearing eleven PM. How was that possible? He’d arrived home around five and had begun his search for Awsten shortly after. But perhaps after the phone call, driving around with Mr. Wood, walking all through the woods, waiting for the police and the EMTs to find them, the EMTs having to stabilize Awsten and then transport him safely back out of the woods, driving here, getting Awsten situated, and then Otto spending nearly thirty minutes with him had added up. 

“Is he in pain?” Geoff asked the nurse softly.

She looked at him regretfully. “I don’t know right now. One of the IVs has strong painkillers in it, and it should be working by now, but I can’t ask him. So I don’t know.” 

“But he was in pain,” Geoff deduced, “before.” 

“Yes.” She looked away. “A lot of it.” 

He stared at her. 

“Have you ever been in snow?” she asked quietly.

“Yes.” 

“Do you remember how it feels when you’ve been out in it for maybe ten or fifteen minutes, even with gloves on, and you come back inside? How your fingers hurt really badly until they adjust back to the temperature?” 

“Yes,” Geoff whispered, a horrified look in his eyes.

She looked directly at him. “I want to be honest with you, because this may be traumatizing for him, and I want you to be ready for that, okay?” 

“Yes.”

“He felt that pain - the one where you come in from outside - all over his body at a greater intensity. It would have started in the ambulance and continued hopefully just until the painkillers kicked in. He was essentially freezing and then thawing out.” 

Geoff swallowed.

“The freezing part is bad until it isn’t, and then it’s almost relaxing. People who die from hypothermia are almost always extremely relaxed. They say it’s just like slowly falling asleep.”

“But why,” Geoff began hoarsely, "did he take off his coat?”

Luckily, she had an explanation ready for the question that had been baffling Geoff the most. “He was cold, and then he got so cold that his brain got confused and started sending signals to his skin that heated it up. It’s kind of the body's last-ditch effort to save itself. The person out in the cold thinks that they’re hot when they are literally freezing, and then they take their clothes off, which makes everything worse. It’s called paradoxical undressing. Some people are found completely naked in crazy snowstorms.” 

“Oh,” Geoff whispered.

“Yes.” She looked over at Awsten, and Geoff followed her gaze. “He may not remember it at all. But he might remember it really vividly. His friend mentioned to me that he’s dealt with a lot already.” 

Geoff nodded in confirmation.

“This is something else that might leave a mark.”

 

* * *

When Geoff walked back out of Awsten’s hospital room mere moments later, the minister from the church stood and headed toward him.

“Hey,” he said, holding out a hand. 

"Oh." Geoff stopped walking and shook it. “Hello.” 

“I’m Jon. I don’t know if you remember me.”

“I am Geoff Wigington, and I do. You gave the sermon about the zombie apocalypse.”

Jon smiled, his eyes crinkling happily. “Yeah, man. Thanks for coming. I appreciate that.” He let go of Geoff’s hand. “Listen, Lucas has gotta go pretty soon, and I was thinking it might help Awsten out a little if we all went in and prayed. I cleared it with everybody else, but I just wanna make sure it's okay with you, too - I wanna ask if anybody in the waiting room wants to join us.”

“Oh,” Geoff murmured again. He'd had no idea what Jon was going to propose, but he certainly hadn’t been expecting that.

“There’s power in a community, however small, you know?” Jon said, looking hopeful.

“Yes - of course.”

“So you’re cool with it?”

“Yes, I am ‘cool with it.’” 

Jon smiled and lightly clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, man. I just don’t wanna make anybody uncomfortable by inviting strangers in. But nobody’s a stranger in the eyes of God.” Without another word, Jon turned to the room and rubbed his hands together. “Hi, everybody,” he said, the noise a little jarring compared to the silence.

Geoff noticed that Otto had, in fact, filled Geoff’s chair and was leaning against his mother, and she had his arm around him. They both looked up. So did everyone Geoff knew and the ten or fifteen other people that he didn’t, including the receptionists at the desk.

“My name’s Jon. I’m the pastor at a church called FutureFaith, and I’m here tonight because someone I care about is in a room back there,” he said, using his thumb to point over his shoulder toward the hallway of hospital rooms. “I know you’re all probably here for the same reason. I’m about to go back there into his room and pray over him, and before I go, I just wanted to ask if anybody wants to come back with me. His name’s Awsten. He’s eighteen. He got caught out in the storm tonight, and he’s fighting through hypothermia right now.” 

A woman Geoff didn’t know hummed, “Oh, poor thing.” 

“He’s not awake, so if you’re worried about that, it’s not an issue. We’d just love to have as many praying hands on him as possible. You don’t even gotta be a believer. If you just wanna show up and send some good vibes, we appreciate that, too. So, um.” He glanced at his assistant. “If you want to come… come on back.”

Lucas stood immediately, and so did all of the Woods. Jon’s assistant and the man Geoff didn’t know brought up the rear. 

Geoff was shocked when one of the receptionists murmured something to the other, stood, and moved to follow the little train. Two men from the other side of the room, the woman who’d said “oh, poor thing,” and a mother with her little girl all came in. Awsten’s room was packed. 

“Y’all got the whole waiting room in here, huh?” Tanisha asked with a little smile. She stood to join them.

Jon arranged everyone around the bed, and Geoff couldn’t help but think that if Awsten was awake, he would have been completely mortified. But Geoff would do anything to help, even if Awsten wasn’t at death’s door anymore. It bothered him immensely that Awsten had been hurting so badly and was rendered unable to express it or get help. It was all Geoff’s fault.

“If you’re close enough,” Jon said to everyone, “reach out and lay a hand on him. We don’t want to move him at all, but if you can, just touch him. If you can’t reach him, touch somebody who can.” 

Otto was by the head of the bed where he’d been before, sitting beside his best friend and staring down at him with a hand on his shoulder, clearly silently willing him to wake up. His mother filled the space beside him, and Geoff stood next to her. They each laid a hand on Awsten over the blankets.

Lucas stood on Geoff’s other side with the man Geoff didn’t know slightly behind him, and then on the opposite side of the bed were Jon, his assistant, Mr. Wood, and the receptionist. Everyone else formed another ring around them. Many of them set hands on the shoulders of the people in front of them. Geoff noticed Mrs. Wood reach behind herself to hold the little girl’s hand.

“Alright, bow your heads,” Jon directed. 

Geoff obliged, squeezing his eyes shut tight and just begging, _Please._

“Father God, we love you, and we come to you tonight to ask you to watch over Awsten. We thank you for bringing him out of the storm and into the hands of people who were able to help, God. Thank you for Geoff, who found him. Thank you for the first responders who helped search for him and get him out of the forest and to the hospital in one piece. Thank you for all the doctors and nurses who have been taking such great care of him since he got here. 

“Father God, we ask that you keep Awsten safe and comfortable as he recovers. Protect him from the hurt and the cold in his body. May he feel your loving presence beside him every moment.” Jon looked up. “Would anyone else like to add anything?” 

“Please wake him up soon so I can tell him I’m sorry,” Otto begged without an ounce of hesitation. 

Geoff nodded. He’d been hoping for the same thing.

“Let him know,” came a gruff voice, and Geoff was surprised to see that it was Mr. Wood who was speaking, “that we love him. That nobody’s angry.”

“I pray for a quick and painless recovery,” the receptionist added. 

Jon waited several more seconds, but no one spoke, so he nodded and then said, “God, we are here with Awsten right now, and we know that you are with him as well. Please comfort not only him but his family and friends who love him. Let us rest as he rests, and let us be there to show him love and kindness when he wakes. You know the concerns and cries of all of our hearts. We love you. In Jesus’ name we pray.”

“Amen,” everyone chorused.

All of the strangers slipped away, one asking Jon to come to the room of their loved one. Geoff tried not to listen since it felt like such an intimate request, but Jon came to speak with him before he departed.

“Take it easy, okay?” Jon advised. “Everything’s gonna be okay.” 

Geoff nodded. “Thank you.” 

“Hang in there. Here, um…” He dug into his pocket for a little scrap of paper that had a phone number written on it. “This is my number if you need anything or you just wanna talk.” 

“Thank you,” Geoff repeated. “I appreciate that.”

“It doesn’t have to be about God,” Jon added. “If you just need an ear, I am here.” He clapped Geoff on the shoulder again. “It was good to see you, man. Tell Awsten that me and Big T came by, okay?” 

“I will. Thank you.” 

With one last smile and a brief and sad peek at Awsten, Jon slipped out of the room. 

“I’ve got to go, too,” Lucas said regretfully to Geoff. “I have to stay at least partially on my sleep schedule or I can’t be effective with my boys.” 

“I understand,” Geoff nodded. “Thank you for coming here. He would have been happy to see you.”

“If he’s still here tomorrow afternoon, I’ll come back.” 

“Oh, no-”

“Monday’s my day off.”

Geoff nodded. “I see.” 

Lucas pulled him into an embrace. “Take care of yourself. You can’t help him if you don’t.” 

Geoff hugged him back. “I will. Thank you.” 

Lucas nodded and moved over to Otto. 

Otto didn’t stand up, but he leaned away from Awsten to throw his arms around Lucas’ stomach. 

Lucas hugged him back. “I told Mr. W I’ll come back tomorrow if Awsten’s still here.” 

“Okay,” Otto replied brokenly.

“Do you still have my number?” 

He nodded. 

“Use it if you need it. I mean that.” 

Otto didn’t say anything else when he let go, just turned back to Awsten and carefully curled up beside him, resting his head on the pillows.

“They’re saying he’s going to be fine,” Mr. Wood said to Geoff, “so we’re gonna go on home.” 

Geoff watched as Lucas and the man he didn’t know shared an embrace as well. Then, to Mr. Wood, he said, “Alright. I will call you if anything happens.”

“Oh, honey, you should go home and get some sleep,” Mrs. Wood told him with a frown.

“Thank you, but I need to be here,” Geoff replied politely. “I am responsible for him.”

“All he’s gonna do is sleep,” Mr. Wood pointed out.

“Yes, but I would prefer to be here in the case that something happens.” 

“Your choice, son.” Mr. Wood held out his hand, and Geoff shook it. “You know how to reach us if you need us.” 

“Alright.”

“Otto, come on, son.” 

He didn’t move or even glance up. All he said was, “No.” 

“Otto,” Mr. Wood warned.

“I am happy to watch over both of them,” Geoff offered. He didn’t want to inject himself into the disagreement, but he couldn’t imagine forcing the best friends apart, not after tonight.

“Oh, would you?” Mrs. Wood asked him thankfully. “That would be such a big help.” 

“Of course.”

To both Otto and Geoff, Mr. Wood said, “Call if you need anything.”

“Kay,” Otto replied. He readjusted so he was closer to Awsten. 

Mrs. Wood leaned down and pressed a kiss to Otto’s head, one to Awsten’s, and then one to Geoff’s, too. “Bye, my sweeties.” 

“Goodbye, Mary,” Geoff murmured in response.

"Bye, baby." She squeezed his shoulder, and they left. 

The room was quiet and empty.

“I was just asking my mom if you’re gonna come have dinner with us over Thanksgiving break,” Otto muttered. He turned to look at Geoff. “Are you?”

“If it’s something that you wish.” 

Otto nodded and then turned back to Awsten. “I missed you,” he confessed, and Geoff wasn’t sure whether he was talking to Awsten or to him. But then Otto sat fully up and added, “I’m glad you’ve been there for him. But what happened? Why would he run away?” 

Geoff smiled sadly. “We had a large misunderstanding. There have been other things that I believe contributed to it - his father’s release from prison, the-”

“Wait, what?” Otto demanded.

“Yes… His father was released and returned to Lakeview this week. Your parents knew; I assumed that they shared the news with you as well. I’m sorry.”

“They don’t tell me anything anymore,” he grumbled. He turned and looked down at Awsten. “Fuck. Why didn’t you call me?” he asked softly. He laid back down, this time with his head resting on Awsten’s shoulder. “Does he hate me?” 

“No,” Geoff answered immediately. “Not a bit. I believe that he misses you very, very much, Otto.” 

Otto sniffled. “I miss him, too.” He draped an arm across the middle of Awsten’s mound of blankets and closed his eyes. “I miss you,” he repeated. “Please wake up.” 

Geoff watched over them sadly until Otto fell asleep, at which point he dismissed himself for a few moments in the gift shop to find some food and a few novels. When he returned, Otto had not moved, so Geoff quietly carried his chair to the other side of the bed, ate his granola bar, and then began to play Candy Crush. He’d been stuck on the same level for multiple days, and he lost all five of his lives trying to complete it yet again. 

Frustrated, he pursed his lips and blew a breath out. Then he reached into the little bag from the gift shop and retrieved a book; The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime. 

Softly, as not to wake Otto, Geoff began to read from the first page.

 

_It was 7 minutes after midnight. The dog was lying on the grass in the middle of the lawn in front of Mrs. Shears’s house. Its eyes were closed. It looked as if it was running on its side, the way dogs run when they think they are chasing a cat in a dream. But the dog was not running or asleep. The dog was dead. There was a garden fork sticking out of the dog. The points of the fork must have gone all the way through the dog and into the ground because the fork had not fallen over. I decided that the dog was probably killed with the fork because I could not see any other wounds in the dog and I do not think you would stick a garden fork into a dog after it had died for some other reason, like cancer, for example, or a road accident. But I could not be certain about this._

_I went through Mrs. Shears’s gate, closing it behind me. I walked onto her lawn and knelt beside the dog. I put my hand on the muzzle of the dog. It was still warm._

_The dog was called Wellington. It belonged to Mrs. Shears, who was our friend. She lived on the opposite side of the road, two houses to the left._

_Wellington was a poodle. Not one of the small poodles that have hairstyles but a big poodle. It had curly black fur, but when you got close you could see that the skin underneath the fur was a very pale yellow, like chicken._

_I stroked Wellington and wondered who had killed him, and why._

 

Geoff read until he didn’t want to read anymore, and he glanced at his phone; it had been well over an hour, and all of his Candy Crush lives had been restored. He began to play again, and after three more tries, he beat the level. Geoff stared down at his phone in shock, and then he let out a bright laugh, looking over at Awsten. 

He’d forgotten, for a moment, where he was. He’d forgotten that Awsten was lying unconscious in a hospital bed, forgotten the purple lines under his eyes, forgotten the two IVs still sending medicine through his veins. 

Geoff’s face fell.  “Oh, how I wish you could have seen that,” he murmured sadly. “You would have been so happy. I… I apologize, Awsten.” He set the phone on his knee and tilted his head down.“I am sorry for any pain that I have caused. I never intended to hurt you.” 

_PS, I meant what I said when we watched Gravity Falls._

“I am truly sorry.” 

“Geoff,” a voice said, and he turned to see Tanisha, the nurse, watching him from her spot in the corner. “It’s late. Get some rest.” 

“I cannot,” Geoff protested politely. “What if he wakes?” 

“Then I will wake _you._ Go to sleep. You’ll just feel worse and worse if you stay up.”

Geoff turned back, looking first at Otto and then at Awsten. He thought of what Lucas had said; _Take care of yourself. You can’t help him if you don’t._

He didn’t want to fall asleep in the hospital again. He didn’t want to wake up here again. But at least this time, there was hope. Geoff adjusted in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, sighing and closing his eyes. He was a light sleeper; it would be fine. 

That was the last thing he remembered before he fell asleep.


	8. November (Part II)

** November 3 **

“Chapter one hundred,” Geoff read softly, unknowingly turning the page in rhythm with Awsten’s heart monitor. “Mr. Okamoto, in his letter to me, recalled the interrogation as having been ‘difficult and memorable.’ He remembered Piscine Molitor Patel as being ‘very thin, very tough, very bright.’”

 

_His report, in its essential part, ran as follows:_

_Sole survivor could shed no light on reasons for sinking of Tsimtsum. Ship appears to have sunk very quickly, which would indicate a major hull breach. Important quantity of debris would support this theory. But precise reason of breach impossible to determine. No major weather disturbance reported that day in quadrant. Survivor's assessment of weather impressionistic and unreliable. At most, weather a contributing factor. Cause was perhaps internal to ship. Survivor believes he heard an explosion, hinting at a major engine problem, possibly the explosion of a boiler, but this is speculation._

_Ship twenty-nine years old (Erlandson and Skank Shipyards, Malmo, 1948), refitted in 1970. Stress of weather combined with structural fatigue a possibility, but conjecture. No other ship mishap reported in area on that day, so ship-ship collision unlikely. Collision with debris a possibility, but unverifiable. Collision with a floating mine might explain explosion, but seems fanciful, besides highly unlikely as sinking started at stern, which in all likelihood would mean that hull breach was at stern too. Survivor cast doubts on fitness of crew but had nothing to say about officers. Oika Shipping Company claims all cargo absolutely licit and not aware of any officer or crew problems._

_Cause of sinking impossible to determine from available evidence. Standard insurance claim procedure for Oika. No further action required. Recommend that case be closed._

_As an aside, story of sole survivor, Mr. Piscine Molitor Patel, Indian citizen, is an astounding story of courage and endurance in the face of extraordinarily difficult and tragic circumstances. In the experience of this investigator, his story is unparalleled in the history of shipwrecks. Very few castaways can claim to have survived so long at sea as Mr. Patel, and none in the company of an adult Bengal tiger._

 

Geoff closed the book, exhaled softly, and then reached into the white, plastic bag at his feet. He tucked Life of Pi into it and pulled out another paperback, this one’s cover depicting a tiny mouse equipped with a sword. “I do predict that you will like this one better,” he murmured. “It is entitled the Tale of Despereaux.”

 

_Chapter one; The Last One_

_This story begins within the walls of a castle with the birth of a mouse. A small mouse. The last mouse-_

 

Geoff cut himself off with a flinch as a hand fell onto his shoulder.

“Are you really starting another one?” asked a voice.

Geoff turned, his eyes a little wild. He blinked as he took in the person beside him. “What are you doing here?” he wondered rather rudely. 

“I woke up at four and I couldn’t go back to sleep,” Lucas sighed. “But Geoff, what’s going on right now? You just finished an entire book.” 

“I…” He watched as Lucas brushed a loose strand of blonde hair behind his ear. “I do not want him to think for one moment that I am not here.”

Lucas shook his head. “That’s physically impossible for you.”

“He gets very upset when I am not where he expects me to be, and-”

“You need a break.” Lucas reached down and removed the book from his grasp. 

“No-”

“It’s five forty-five AM, and everyone’s telling me that you haven’t slept. You need to sleep.”

“I _did_ sleep,” he protested indignantly.

Lucas arched one eyebrow.

“Yes. For thirty minutes,” he said, his chin rising.

Lucas let out a short laugh. “Yeah, that’s not even close to enough.” 

“I typically only sleep for five hours. And if he is still in pain-”

“Awsten,” Lucas said loudly, “Mr. W is going to take a break, okay?” 

“But I-”

Otto shifted on Awsten’s other side, letting out a sleepy noise, and both men froze and watched him for a moment, but his breathing stayed the same.

Much more quietly, Lucas said, “Geoff, you know Awsten - probably know him as well as I do. What would he say?” 

Geoff pursed his lips, not wanting to answer.

“If it were me, and I had been up reading to him all night, what would he say?” 

“To stop,” Geoff replied, his voice a whisper.

“Yes. He would want me to rest. I’m sure he wants you to rest, too.” 

“Very well,” Geoff huffed, “but I am not leaving.” 

“You should. Go home and get some sleep. I’ll take over for you here if you want. I’ll read him this… mouse book.”

“It is _not_ a ‘mouse book,’” Geoff frowned. “It is a fairy tale that-”

Gently, Lucas cut him off. “Geoff.” 

He sighed, shoulders drooping. 

“Go out in the waiting room, at least. Get a change of scenery.” 

Geoff gave Lucas a long look and then turned somberly to Awsten. Setting his hand on Awsten’s shoulder, he murmured, “I will be just outside should you need anything. Lucas and Otto are with you now.”

Lucas nodded at him.

Quietly, he stood and, for the first time in nearly eight hours, exited the room.

Lucas took over the chair, and as Geoff reluctantly made his way down the hall, he heard Lucas say, “Hey, he wants me to read to you. I already forgot what the beginning said, so I’m gonna start it over, okay?” He softly cleared his throat. “Chapter one; The Last Mouse.”

 

* * *

Silence.

Pain, but less of it. Much less. 

The screaming had stopped, although someone in close proximity to him was crying.

_What’s going on?_ he tried to ask, but his voice was gone. Maybe he’d destroyed it with all of his own screaming. 

His skin wasn’t on fire anymore; at least there was that much. 

He laid still, just breathing and listening to _beep… beep… beep…_ and the soft sound of sobs coming from whoever it was beside him. As he listened, he realized that the person was holding his hand. 

There was the unpleasant sound of a chair scraping across tile, but with it came a waft of sweet, flowery perfume. 

_Mom?_

The crying abruptly ceased, and there were several seconds of silence. Then, sharply -

“Tanisha?”

That was definitely Mom’s voice.

“Yes?” 

“His pinkie just moved.” 

There were sounds then that Awsten couldn’t identify, but after a bit, a voice he didn’t recognize suggested, “Talk to him. He might be able to hear you.”

_I can,_ Awsten tried to say. _Mom, I can hear you._ Then, inside he begged, _Please let this be real. Please don’t let me be dead._

“Honey, can you hear me?”

_Yes!_

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re safe now. It’s alright. Mama’s here.” 

A kiss was pressed to Awsten’s forehead, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the only emotions he could feel were happiness and relief. 

“You can wake up whenever you’re ready, baby. I’m right here. Oh, I missed you.” She began to cry again, but this time, she didn’t sound so sad. “I know you’re in there. I felt your finger move. I felt it.” She kissed him again. “I couldn’t leave you. I couldn’t stay away; I don’t know what I thought I was doing, walking out like that. I’m so sorry, honey. I could hardly sleep knowing you were here and I wasn’t.” 

Awsten wasn’t sure exactly what she was talking about, but he didn’t care. She was here. She was _here._ And she wasn’t angry. 

“I missed you, I missed you, I missed you,” she whispered, brushing his hair off of his forehead. 

_I missed you, too, Mom._

 

* * *

 

Geoff aimlessly wandered the halls for a while before going back to sit in the waiting room. 

A glance at the wall clock told him that it was nearing six AM. He sighed and stood again, wondering if Mr. Miller from next door might be awake and willing to go over to feed Tuna for him. 

“Pardon me,” he murmured to the receptionist who had come into Awsten’s room to pray with them several hours earlier. 

“What can I do for you?” she asked with a warm smile. 

“I was wondering if there is a payphone somewhere that I might use. I am afraid my cell phone battery has run out.” He was glad he'd thought to call the school and let them know of his predicament; "a family emergency," he'd explained on the voicemail recording and left it at that.

“We sure do! Do you know where the gift shop is?”

“Yes.” 

“Go down there, and if you’re looking at the gift shop, there’s a door to your left. It’s right outside of that.” 

“Alright. Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome!” 

Mr. Miller _was_ awake, it turned out. As Geoff spoke with him, explaining where the cat food was and how much of it to put in Tuna's little bowl, his eyes caught sight of a stained glass window in the wall of the hospital that looked similar to the one in his kitchen. Regardless of the fact that Geoff had spent days and days and days in this building, he’d never been to this part and therefore never noticed the window. 

Once he wrapped up his call, he went back in and tried to guess where it was in order to find out what was on the other side. There was a door in the area he estimated the stained glass to be with a small sign hanging over it that read, _Chapel._ Ah.

Out of curiosity, Geoff cracked the door open. 

The space was small, dark, and empty. There were cream-colored tea candles in front of a wooden cross, a few of them lit. Geoff wondered whether it was wise to leave them here unattended but put the thought out of his head and wandered to the second row of pews and sat down. He sighed heavily and leaned forward until his forehead rested against the back of the pew in front of him. 

_Geoffrey, straighten up!_

He could almost hear her hissing in his ear, almost feel her whack at him with the back of her hand. He smiled in spite of himself. She could be a mean old thing, but he did love her. Geoff had spent countless days in this very building with her, waiting for tests and scans and prescriptions, but it had all been for naught. She had fallen asleep at home one night and not woken up, a victim of her old age. He didn’t necessarily miss her, although she was the member of his family whom he’d been most grateful for - aside from his mother, of course.

“I miss you, Grandmother,” he said softly anyway, because in that moment, he did. He wouldn’t mind making her a cup of coffee right at that moment and helping her hobble (painfully slowly) from her kitchen chair to the porch, where they would remain in silence until the sun rose. 

He wondered what Grandmother would think of Awsten and what Awsten would think of her. He was sure that they wouldn’t like each other much. Grandmother was too strict, Awsten too loud.

He wasn’t loud now. Geoff covered his face with both hands and exhaled heavily, visualizing the teenager unconscious just a few floors away.

Suddenly aware of a few things, he began to speak aloud. “I… understand that I have been absent from church from some time. But I was never comfortable there. It cold and clinical. And Awsten’s church was somehow too warm.” He shook his head.  “Regardless, I would like to thank you. For helping me find him, for bringing him here safely. I asked for more last night, but I did not thank you for answering my earlier prayer. Thank you. He is… my world. Had I not found him in time, and had he passed on alone like that…” 

The image of Awsten pressed up against the tree, drenched and still with his blue lips and his skin like ice under Geoff’s fingers flooded Geoff’s memory. He swallowed thickly. 

“Thank you for bringing him out of that. Thank you… Thank you. I am so sorry that I caused that.” Straightening a little in order to gaze at the flickering candles, he asked softly, “Will he ever forgive me? I know that I cannot ask that of him. But what I ask of you now is to please help me find the right thing to say.”

Geoff’s eyes moved from the candles to the notepad beside them - a list of prayer requests. He sighed quietly and looked down at his slipper-covered feet again. 

He was clad in a pair of borrowed hospital socks, some scrub pants, and a plain, white v-neck. Over it, he wore the now-dry coat he’d given to Awsten. He pulled it around himself, suddenly aware of the clothes he was wearing. He caught the sound of crinkling paper over the sound of the fabric, and he paused. Then, carefully, he reached into the interior pocket and removed Awsten’s letter. 

_Mr. W_

Geoff ran his fingers lightly over his name, which had been written with the green pen Awsten must have borrowed from the cabinet by the stove. 

He unfolded the page for what felt like the hundredth time.

 

_Dear Mr. W,_

_I want to say that I’m really sorry if I was annoying or bad to you, I didn’t mean to be. I just talk before I think about what I’m saying. I’m sorry for asking about Clara Rose and all the times I said your tea smelled weird and I’m sorry for not talking about you and only talking about me and I’m sorry for yelling at you when you didn’t get that I wanted you to sleep in the family room. I am so sorry that I was a burden to you._

 

“You were never-” Geoff whispered, but he cut himself off. He had to speak with Awsten, had to respond to his words, but Awsten wasn't conscious, and Geoff had no paper and no pen. 

His eyes moved to the front, where the prayer request list was sitting. He stood and went over it, looking down at the bold, navy font that simply stated, PRAYERS.  On the line directly underneath the heading, someone had written, _My sanity_. Geoff chuckled lightly; he knew that feeling. He found staying in the hospital for more than even just a few hours to be disorienting and exhausting.

He flipped to the back of the pad and gently pulled a page out, and he removed the pen sitting on the tablecloth a few inches away. Then he sat down in the nearest pew and began to write.

 

* * *

 

Clear, running water… Awsten could see straight to the bottom, straight to the hundreds and hundreds of little pebbles two feet beneath the surface. He bent down on the bank, his feet brown with dirt, and cupped his hands, dipped them in the river, and hurriedly lifted them to his mouth. 

Water had never tasted so good.

He slurped handful after handful until he was bent forward with his mouth open in the water, drinking deeply from the stream.

“Awsten!” an airy, female voice called. “Supper!”

He sat up, wiping at his lips and chin with the back of his hand as he looked over his shoulder, but there was no one to be seen. 

He waited for a moment, scanning the tall, grassy field, and then turned around and went back to the stream, swallowing the crystal clear water for minutes on end. No matter how long he drank, he was unable to quench his thirst. 

 

* * *

 

_And Father shouted, “I cooked his meals. I cleaned his clothes. I looked after him every weekend. I looked after him when he was ill. I took him to the doctor. I worried myself sick every time he wandered off somewhere at night. I went to school every time he got into a fight. And you? What? You wrote him some fucking letters.”_

_And Mother shouted, “So you thought it was OK to tell him his mother was dead?”_

_And Mr. Shears shouted, “Now is not the time.”_

_And Father shouted, “You, butt out or I’ll–”_

_And Mother shouted, “Ed, for God’s sake–”_

_And Father said, “I’m going to see him. And if you try to stop me–”_

_And then Father came into my room. But I was holding my Swiss Army knife with the saw blade out in case he grabbed me._

_And Mother came into the room as well, and she said, “It’s OK, Christopher. I won’t let him do anything. You’re all right.”_

_And Father bent down on his knees near the bed and he said, “Christopher?” But I didn’t say anything. And he said, “Christopher, I’m really, really sorry. About everything. About Wellington. About the letters. About making you run away. I never meant… I promise I will never do anything like that again. Hey. Come on, kiddo.”_

_And then he held up his right hand and spread his fingers out in a fan so that I could touch his fingers, but I didn’t because I was frightened._

_And Father said, “Shit. Christopher, please.”_

_And there were tears dripping off his face._

_And no one said anything for a while._

_And then Mother said, “I think you should go now,” but she was talking to Father, not me. And then the policeman came back because Mr. Shears had rung the police station and he told Father to calm down and he took him out of the flat._

_And Mother said, “You go back to sleep now. Everything is going to be all right. I promise.”_

_And then I went back to sleep._

 

* * *

 

_Beep… Beep… Beep…_

With a long, deep breath in, Awsten tried to open his eyes.

Dammit - they were so heavy.

He tried again, pushing and pushing at his lids until they opened the littlest bit, just enough for him to peek out of. It took a moment for everything to come into focus, and when it did, he was gripped by fear. 

Everything was white, unfamiliar. He had no idea where he was.

The beeping sped up, and that only frightened him more. But he breathed in, and with it came a familiar scent. Awsten instantly felt comforted. Slowly, he tilted his head a handful of inches to the right, and sure enough, there was a mess of brown curls. 

“Otto,” Awsten mumbled. His eyes fell shut again. They were way too heavy. Clumsily, he lifted his hand and tried to move in the direction of his best friend. His arm bumped against Otto somewhere - he wasn’t sure where - and there was an immediate movement. “Otto,” Awsten repeated, and the word sounded garbled, even to his own ears.

“ _Hey_ ,” Otto replied breathlessly. A hand settled on Awsten over the blankets, and then there was the unmistakable feeling of Otto resting his forehead against Awsten’s. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” 

Awsten adjusted a little on the pillow, wanting to return to sleep. But before he did, he asked in a weak whisper, “Am I dead?” 

There was a little laugh. “What?” 

“You’re here… Is this Heaven?”

There was a long silence. Awsten was just about to try to force his eyes open again when a wet sniffle reached his ears. 

“No. You’re not dead.”

“Mmkay.” 

Things quickly got cold and then slowly warmer than they had been before.

There was a silence, and then Otto asked, “How do you feel?”

Belatedly, Awsten realized that Otto had lifted the blankets so he could wrap his arm directly around Awsten’s chest. Otto’s fingers pressed against Awsten’s rib cage.

“Heavy,” Awsten exhaled, turning his head sideways.

Otto seemed to understand what Awsten was doing; he slid forward so that Awsten could lean on his shoulder and then pressed a quick kiss against Awsten’s head. “God, you scared me so bad. Getting that phone call…”

He might have said more, but Awsten didn’t process it if he did.

“Love you,” Awsten muttered as he succumbed to sleep once again.

 

* * *

 

The news spread quickly; _Awsten woke up! Just for a second, but he woke up! He talked to me!_

Geoff was overwhelmed with relief. So overwhelmed, in fact, that he hadn’t been able to sit still. He returned to the pay phone, where he called Mr. Wood and left a message letting him know what had happened. 

While he was outside, he realized that despite the twenty minutes he’d just spent meandering up and down the hospital halls, he was getting antsy. He’d also barely slept. The weather was still chilly and breezy, but the fresh air would be of help.

 

* * *

 

A feeling started to nudge at Awsten’s mind. He opened his eyes into the blackness again, but this time there was no pain, no fear. Just comfort. It wasn’t quite the feeling he got from being atop the bridge in his dreams, but it was close. It was _better._

He could get used to this.

But something told him no… He was needed elsewhere. It was time to wake up. 

Awsten began to panic, loudly pleading, “I don’t want to go back! Please, there’s nothing there for me. It’s too hard!” His voice echoed in the wide, empty space.

And the feeling generated three words - _It is time._ With them, the overwhelming sense of calm came back. 

Awsten silently exhaled a heavy breath, relishing in it for a moment before begging the feeling, “Please don’t leave me.”

Everything grew warmer, turned gold. _I am always with you._

 

* * *

 

As the hospital came into view, Geoff sighed a little, but mostly, he felt alright. The weather was still more dreadful than pleasant, but he'd walked for longer than he'd planned, the time outside had been good to him. His head felt clearer. 

As Geoff neared the courtyard, though, he could hear arguing. The more he listened, the more he was able to make out the words being flung back and forth.

“-when Colt said Mac said he was here, and he’s-”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter! He’s my son!” 

“Your son who has a restraining order against you.”

That was Mr. Wood’s voice. And there was only one restraining order Geoff knew about, which meant -

The argument paused, and Geoff picked up his pace. He rounded the corner, where his eyes landed on Mr. Wood, who was barely a foot away from none other than Ross Knight.

As calmly as he could, Geoff strode right up to them. “Pardon me.”

Ignoring him, Awsten’s father spat directly into Mr. Wood’s face.

“ _No,_ ” Geoff said sharply. 

That did get Mr. Knight to turn and look at him. “Who the hell are you?” And then - “You were at the trial. You motherfucker, you testified against me! You don’t even know me!”

“I merely answered the questions I was asked,” Geoff replied, his words clipped. “You are not welcome here. You need to leave.”

“This is public property,” he growled, “and my son is in there-”

Geoff interrupted, “David is right. The court placed a restraining order on you.”

“And he’s not your son,” Mr. Wood added passionately. “Not anymore.”

The response came with a smug smirk. “He’s my blood. Can’t take that away from us.”

“You think he considers you his father?” Mr. Wood demanded. “He’s a kid, Ross. Who’s been taking care of him all these years, huh? You? Your wife?”

Mr. Knight’s jaw clenched, and he lunged back at Mr. Wood, pointing a finger right in his face. “Don’t you ever talk about my wife, you piece of shit!”

“Ay, settle down,” a security guard called from the door, stepping toward them but not coming over. 

“Yes, she is correct,” Geoff agreed a little urgently. “We need to take a moment to relax.”

“Geoff, you go on inside and tell my wife that he’s here, please,” Mr. Wood said, not taking his eyes off of the man in front of him. "Tell her to call the police."

“Wait,” Mr. Knight muttered, stepping back from Mr. Wood and turning in order to really look at Geoff. “Geoff... Geoff Wigington? You live next door to the Millers. Irene’s grandson, right? Yeah, yeah… You’re that science teacher, aren’t you?” 

Geoff could smell the liquor on his breath. He elected not to reply.

“You’re the one who’s been hiding my fuckin’ kid from me!”

“No one has ever been ‘hiding’ him,” Mr. Wood told him. “Not before, and not now.” 

“Awsten is welcome to stay with me as long as he likes,” Geoff explained. 

“Oh, are you touching him, then?” 

Geoff’s eyes went wide. 

“Of course not,” Mr. Wood said angrily. “Geoff is a good man.”

Mr. Knight snorted. “Yeah, that’s why he sent me to prison.”

“I did no such thing,” Geoff countered, “and I refuse to discuss any of this with you any longer. You are unwelcome here. It is time for you to leave.”

“I ain’t going anywhere. My son’s in there.” 

“He is not your son,” both men replied together.

Geoff repeated, “You need to leave before anyone else elects to get involved.”

Mr. Knight faked a laugh, rolled his eyes, and then lunged. 

 

* * *

 

Awsten’s eyes slowly opened.

Before he could process anything other than that same white light from before, there was a cool hand on his forehead.

“Hey… Hey, baby… Good morning.” 

“I’ll get a doctor,” came another voice.

Awsten took a few slow breaths, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment, and then he turned his head to look over at the source of the first words. “M-Mom?” His voice was so raspy that he didn’t recognize it.

She smiled at him, her eyes filling with tears. “Hi, my sweet boy,” she whispered. She leaned forward and kissed his hair. “Oh, honey.” 

“Where… are we?” he asked, the words coming out like molasses.

“We’re at the hospital,” she replied softly. 

Oh. That made sense… it certainly explained the steady beeping that had been playing in the back of his mind.

“How do you feel?” 

“Um…” He thought for a second. “Tired.”

“Okay, baby.” She began to stroke his hair as she wondered, “Do you remember what happened?” 

He tried to think back, but he came up with nothing. Absolutely nothing. “Is Otto okay?”

“Otto is fine,” she assured him.

“What about Mr. W?” Awsten asked, starting to sit up.

“No, no - don’t move,” she said quickly, and she pressed a hand over his chest to gently push him back down.

He wasn’t terribly upset by this; the movement had made him dizzy.

"Mr. W is fine, too, honey,” she promised. “You stay still, okay?”

That instruction, of course, had him wiggling his toes instantly. “Is your husband okay?” 

“Yes, baby. It’s just you here. Everyone else is fine. But you don’t remember what happened?” She reached toward him, her hands going to the crook of his elbow and straightening something. 

He glanced down and saw Oliver nestled in the blankets with him. Oliver reminded him of Otto, and Otto reminded him of -

His heart monitor sped up, and she must have noticed, because she looked at him and asked, “What is it?” 

“You…”

“I what?” 

He shook his head.

“Honey?” 

He clenched his back teeth as the word came out of her mouth. “Why are you calling me that?” he asked, his words still slurring a little. “You wouldn’t open the door for me.” 

“The door?” she asked with a puzzled look. “What door?” 

“Your car was there, but you wouldn’t open the door.”

“At the house?” she checked sadly. 

He nodded.

“Baby, I wasn’t home. Dad and I had gone to see Otto. I am so, _so_ sorry, Awsten. Ida called Daddy and told him you’d been there, but by the time we got home, we couldn’t find you anywhere.” 

She leaned forward to brush his hair back off of his forehead again, but he angrily leaned away. 

“Baby,” she pleaded.

“ _No._ ”

 

* * *

 

“HEY!” the security guard shouted, running toward Geoff, Mr. Wood, and Mr. Knight.

Pain exploded as Mr. Knight smashed his fist into Geoff’s jaw, and he stumbled back a few steps, his eyes watering instantly from the pain. His fingers flew up to rest against his skin as he watched not only Mr. Wood but the security guard rush to restrain Awsten’s father. 

“I’m in charge of me again now! Can’t nobody tell me what to do!” Mr. Knight ranted.

Geoff had never been punched before, and he was surprised by how much it felt like being hit with a large rock rather than someone’s hand. Experimentally, he opened and closed his mouth and then pressed at his ear. All of that hurt, but not nearly as much as the throbbing in his jaw. It almost felt more like heat than pain.

Within seconds, a police car pulled up, and two uniformed men emerged from the car incredibly quickly. 

“Fuck,” Mr. Knight grumbled, and then he turned on an innocent smile. “Hey, officers. There’s no problem here-”

Both Mr. Wood and the security guard disputed that immediately, and there was a bit of a scuffle between all five of them that ended with Mr. Knight on his knees being handcuffed as he spat, “Fuck you! I’m here to see my _son_!” 

Mr. Wood was talking to the other officer, and he pointed over at Geoff. The man nodded and replied something that sounded like, “and then we’ll have them send the footage.” The next thing Geoff knew, the cop was coming right toward him.

“Hey… you alright there?” 

“Yes, thank you. I am fine.” 

“He says,” the cop relayed, motioning to Mr. Wood, “that he-” He pointed at Mr. Knight - “punched you in the face.” 

“That is correct.” 

“Move your hand for me,” he directed, and Geoff obliged, revealing the spot where he'd been hit. “Yeah, that’ll leave a mark,” the officer commented with a slight wince. “Can you tell me what happened here this morning?”

“I went for a walk, and when I returned I found David in a confrontation with Ross Knight.” 

“Identify them for me?”

“That is David in the green shirt,” he said with a nod toward Otto’s father, “and the shouting man being handcuffed is Ross Knight. David and I are both here because Mr. Knight’s son is in the intensive care unit.”

“What happened to him?” 

Paraphrasing the pastor’s words from the night before, Geoff explained, “He was stranded in last night’s storm and contracted hypothermia.” 

“I see. What’s your relation to his son?” 

“I was his English teacher last year. He stays with me now since his father is… well.” In a rare occurrence, Geoff was lost for words. 

“Yeah, I can see what you mean,” the cop nodded. “And what about him?”

“David is the father of Awsten’s best friend.”

“Awsten is Ross Knight’s son?” 

“That is correct, yes.”

“Alright. You wanna press charges?” 

Geoff blinked. “Pardon?”

The officer motioned to Geoff’s face. “He assaulted you. You wanna press charges? Sounds like the hospital got it on camera, and you've got at least two witnesses. You could make a good case.” 

“Oh, I - do I have to decide right this minute?” 

“No, you got two years.” 

“Oh. In that case, I believe I would like to wait a while.” 

“Alright. I’d offer you a ride to the hospital, but…” He motioned toward the building beside them.

Geoff did crack a tiny smile at that. A twinge of pain shot through his jaw.

The cop reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a business card, which he passed to Geoff. “This is me if you need anything.”

“Thank you very much.” 

“You’re welcome, sir. And hey, get some ice on that face.” 

He walked away, and suddenly Mr. Wood was beside Geoff, leading him to a bench and sitting him down. Geoff couldn’t take his eyes off of the scene in front of him, though. 

Awsten’s father was still yelling as they put him in the back of the patrol car, announcing that what had happened was “unfair” and “fucking stupid” and that everyone would be hearing from his lawyer. 

“And it’s not even nine AM,” Mr. Wood sighed, shaking his head. 

The car door slammed shut, cutting the tirade short.

Everything was quiet again. The police cars drove away, and then it was like nothing had ever happened. The people walking up the hill and through the doors had no idea that a violent altercation had just taken place. 

“He punched me in the face,” Geoff stated in wonder, finally coming back to his senses and turning to look at Otto’s father. “Did you see that? He punched me right in the face.”

Mr. Wood nodded. “Yeah, son, I saw it. Are you alright? Somebody went to get you some ice and a nurse.”

“All because I refused to give him what he wanted,” Geoff added, still a little dazed.

“He’s always been a piece of work,” Mr. Wood sighed. “Here, let me see it.” He reached up and gently turned Geoff’s chin so that he could examine his skin. “Yeah, it’s already turning red. He got you pretty good.” 

“He is Awsten’s father,” he realized. “His _father_ , David. That man is his father.”

“Yeah. And thanks to you, he’s gonna be put away for another good chunk of time. That security guard saw the whole thing, and they’ve got cameras all over this place. The state’ll get involved, I’m sure, so he’s gonna go back to prison whether you press charges or not.” 

“Awsten will be relieved to hear that, at least.”

“I think the whole town will,” Mr. Wood added with a humorless chuckle. 

 

* * *

 

“Reverse, reverse!” came the playful little song. 

Awsten, still feeling sour, ignored it. 

“And there’s a wild card, and I pick green.”

Awsten blew air out of his nostrils but didn’t say anything. He reached in and drew from the draw pile, which caused the nurse in front of him, Tyrell, to laugh. 

“Yaaah, man. I’m tellin’ you, this is all I do in here anymore - stick needles in people and play Uno.” 

“It’s just luck,” Awsten groused. 

“No way. No way it’s just luck. Some of it, for sure, for sure. But not - hey, nice, there you go - not all of it. You gotta know how to play.” 

As quietly and covertly as he could, Awsten used the toes of one foot to push at the back of the sock on his other. They were thick, blue, hospital socks, the kind with grips on the bottom to keep the patients from slipping on the tile floors. All they were doing to Awsten, though, was annoying him. He’d only just managed to wiggle the fabric off of his heel when Tyrell’s eyes drifted over to him.

“Nuh-uh,” the nurse said lazily, shaking his head. “Put it back on.” 

Awsten scowled at him but obeyed, reaching under his blankets to tug the material back up.

“Socks stay on,” Tyrell recited for the third time since Awsten had met him a few hours before.

Right as Awsten bit his tongue - he would have loved to respond with _fuck you -_ there was a friendly knock at the door. Rian was standing there with a pen in his hand and his notepad tucked under his arm. Great.

“Ope, he’s here!” Tyrell exclaimed, hurriedly sweeping up the cards. “Good luck, my man. Remember, be honest.” 

“Hey, Tyrell,” Rian said with a smile, and they exchanged a fist bump in the doorway. 

“Wassup, wassup, brother! How you doin’?” 

“Good. You?” 

“Yeah, man, good. Smoking ‘em with my skills!” he grinned, holding up the deck of Spiderman-themed Uno cards. 

“You’re too much,” Rian sighed in amusement. 

“Ah, that’s what everybody tells me. Red button if you need anything. Later, Awsten!” Tyrell called, and then Rian closed the door and came over to fill the chair the nurse had just vacated. 

“Hey.” 

Awsten, who had laid back down on his thin pillow, crossed his arms over his chest in response. 

“Don’t crunch your IV,” Rian warned amiably. “I don’t want you cutting off the medicine, okay?” 

Awsten rolled his eyes.

Rian wasn’t bothered by this, but as he flipped to a clean piece of paper, he added, “I’m serious.” He clicked his pen, glanced Awsten over, and then commented, “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” 

“Okay,” Rian replied slowly, looking over Awsten’s body again as if he could tell just by looking whether or not Awsten was telling the truth. “Before we talk about what happened yesterday, do you have any questions for me?”

“Nope.”

There was a silence, and then Rian said, “You’ve got your whole team sitting out in the waiting room. I heard you won’t let them back here.” 

He shook his head.

“Why not?”

No response.

“Are you worried that they might be mad at you?” 

“I don’t give a fuck about that,” Awsten snorted. 

“Are _you_ mad at _them_?” 

Awsten glared at him but then nodded. 

“How come?” 

There was no answer and a long, long silence. Awsten stared at the wall, completely unwilling to speak. Rian could wait, but Awsten could wait longer. He’d lie there all day in silence. 

After two full minutes filled with only the steady beep of the heart monitor, Rian finally moved on. “Okay. So… tell me what happened yesterday.” 

“Don’t you already know?” Awsten asked rudely. “You just asked me if I need you to tell me the story.”

“I know what I’ve heard from other people. But right now I’m asking you.” 

“Well, I’m not gonna talk about it.” He could feel Rian staring at him, but he didn’t care. This was so stupid. So, so stupid. He’d finally come up with a decent escape plan for once, and halfway through enacting it, his dumb body had to give up on him. He couldn’t even die right.

Rian was silent again, so Awsten grumbled, “How did anyone even find me out there, anyway?” 

“Mr. W figured out where you were going. He had alerted the police that you were missing, and while he and Mr. Wood were on their way to the police station, it sounds like it just clicked. They turned around and went straight to his house, and he went into the forest looking for you. By some miracle, he found you. He still hasn’t told anyone where exactly your destination was, although we’ve all been asking him.” 

“He went in the forest looking for me?” Awsten repeated quietly. 

“Yes. For nearly two hours.”

“But… it was raining.”

Rian shrugged one shoulder. “It seems that you were more important to him than the weather.” 

Awsten looked down at the white sheets. 

“How does it feel knowing that he did that?” Rian wondered. 

“Bad,” Awsten whispered. 

“What kind of bad?” 

“Guilty,” Awsten elaborated immediately.  
  
“Why do you think you feel guilty?”

“Cause he shouldn’t have had to do that,” Awsten muttered. “He shouldn’t have gone looking for me.” 

“Why do you think he did?”

Awsten responded with a shrug.

“Is it possible,” Rian proposed, “that he cares about you?” 

Awsten huffed.

“You told me the first time I met you that he was one of four people who loved you.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Awsten snapped. 

“Well, what did you mean?”

“Just that he was, like. Nice to me and stuff. At school.”

“You also said that you trusted him.”

“So?”

“Hmm. And now?” 

“What about now? _Now_ I know he doesn’t like me at all, so can we stop fucking talking about him?” 

“Why do you think that he doesn’t like you?” 

“Cause I read his stupid diary.” 

Rian’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“Tuna knocked it on the floor,” he explained defensively. “I thought it was just some book, so I picked it up, and I was gonna put it back, I swear, but it didn’t have any words on the outside. I opened the front to try to find out the name of it, but it was all in his handwriting. And I saw my name, so I read a couple pages, and all they talked about was how annoying I was. You know how people say something was the last straw?”

Rian nodded.

“That was the last straw.” 

“What were the… other straws?”

“My dad getting out of prison. That’s the main one. The thing with the piano. And then having to, like, pretend that Otto and his family don’t exist.” Awsten watched silently as Rian wrote, “ _the thing with the piano”_ followed by a question mark and realized how much closer they were to each other than usual. Usually Awsten had no idea what Rian’s notes were even about.

“I see. If we could go back to Mr. W for a moment… If he doesn’t like you, why do you think that he got the police involved so quickly and went out in a downpour looking for you?”

“Cause he feels obligated to help me.”

Rian shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“I turned up at his house,” Awsten argued, “with no warning and no place to go. I have nightmares, and I yell at him, and I eat all the food in his house, and I don’t give him anything back. He should have thrown me out the first night I came over, but he’s too nice.” 

“Is it possible that he likes having you around?”

“No,” Awsten spat, although some of Mr. W’s words floated into his mind.

_I have missed your company on my walks._

_Yeah?_ Awsten had asked, surprised by the sentiment. 

_Yes,_ Mr. W had replied, as steady and sure as always. 

“Well, I just think,” Rian said slowly, “that if he truly didn’t like you, he would have been happy when you left, right?” 

“Not if he feels bad for me.” 

“Why would he feel bad for you if he didn’t like you?” 

“You don’t know him like I do,” Awsten argued. 

“What pieces am I missing?” Rian inquired patiently. 

Instead of responding, Awsten sighed and frustratedly yanked the covers up to his chest.

Rian went back to silence. 

Another minute or so passed, and Awsten quietly confessed, “I regretted leaving while I was out there.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wished I could go back and say sorry. We had kind of like a… I don’t want to say it was a fight, cause it wasn’t. But I broke a rule - he has all these locked doors in his house, and one day the cleaning lady unlocked them, so I went in. He caught me. And he was mad at first, but then he wasn’t, and later, he explained to me why he’d gotten upset, and it was actually, like, a legit reason. And he didn’t hit me.”

Awsten looked up to see Rian nodding. 

“This is different, though,” Awsten said, averting his gaze again. “This is… bigger. Or maybe it isn’t. I don’t know. It kind of feels bigger.” 

“Wh-”

“That’s all I wanna say.” 

Rian nodded. “Alright. I have a question I have to ask you, though. You’ve probably already gotten this question, and you’ll probably keep getting it, but I just need you to answer it for me, okay?” 

“What?”

“Were you trying to kill yourself?” 

He shook his head. 

“Are you sure, Awsten? Because that seems an awful lot like suicidal behavior to me.”

“I didn’t care if I died or not, but that wasn’t part of what I was doing,” he shrugged. “I left when the sun was still out. It was cold, but it wasn’t raining yet. I just wanted to get there as soon as possible, and I’m fucking dumb and didn’t think it through. If I had, I would have gone somewhere else for the night and gone through the woods in the morning.” 

“Where were you trying to go?”

Awsten shook his head. “Stop asking me that.”

“Okay.” 

He swallowed. “I want to tell you something, though.” 

Rian sat up straighter. “Okay, go for it.”

“I figured out why my parents drink.” 

“Wow… Okay. Explain,” he said, jotting something else down on his notepad. 

“There’s nothing to live for anymore. I thought about it, but I didn’t want to turn into what they turned into.”

“You thought about what?” 

“Drinking, I guess. I didn’t think about it a lot; just a little. I know I’ll probably never even try alcohol because of them, but I finally got while they did it.” 

“Because there’s nothing to live for?” Rian repeated.

Awsten nodded.

“Tell me about that.”

“There’s nothing left for me in Lakeview just like there was nothing for them. My parents moved here with me, and they were alone. They had each other, but they fought all the time. At least if I’m alone, I don’t have anyone to make me feel worse.” 

“That’s a really low bar,” Rian frowned. “And Awsten, you’re not alone. You’ve had eight visitors since you got here. Two of them stayed overnight. They still haven’t left, actually.” 

Awsten looked confused. “No, I only saw Otto’s mom.” 

“Yes, but the Woods are outside, and Mr. W, and last night Lucas came by along with two men from your church.” 

Awsten concentrated hard, adding them up. “That’s only six.” 

“No, eight. I came as well.” 

“Otto’s parents,” he repeated, ticking them off on his fingers, “Mr. W, Lucas, probably Jon and Big T, and you. Seven.” 

“And Otto.”

Awsten blinked. “No, that was a dream,” he said quietly, but he didn’t look away from his therapist. 

“That was real. Otto stayed in this room all night. He wouldn’t let anyone pull him away from you. You woke him up this morning and spoke to him for a moment before falling back to sleep.” 

Awsten swallowed again. “No, that can’t be right. He hates me.” 

“He doesn’t hate you, Awsten,” Rian responded, shaking his head. 

“That’s impossible. You don’t know what happened.” Awsten thought about the way he’d been able to smell Otto before he’d seen him. He hadn’t even remembered that Otto had an identifiable smell, not until he’d been away from it for so long that he could pick it up again. Laundry detergent and mint shampoo and his skin. “It was a dream,” he repeated. 

“Would you like to see him now?” Rian offered. “I just spoke with him outside. He’s still here.”

Awsten hesitated. His stomach swirled with anxiety, and he lifted his left hand straight to his mouth so he could chew on his nails. If Otto had slept beside him all night, he couldn’t have been mad, right? But maybe that now that some of the relief had worn off…

He shook his head.

“Okay. That’s alright - you don’t have to decide right now. May I offer some professional advice, though?”

Awsten looked up at him. 

“People who visit other people in the hospital typically come either because they have something to say or because they love the person who’s sick or hurt. Ninety-five times out of a hundred, they just want to be supportive. The other time is usually a deathbed thing, when they want to let the person know how angry or hurt they are.”

Awsten shifted uncomfortably in his bed, making the scratchy sheets rustle loudly. 

“My advice is to see them. You might be surprised by what they have to say.”

He grimaced.

“Let’s go back to what you said a minute ago, though; you’ve got me pretty concerned. You said there’s nothing to live for. What exactly did you mean by that?” 

“I didn’t mean it,” Awsten lied. Truthfully, he was bursting to talk about it, but it felt wrong - almost like he would be betraying himself if he explained.

“Yes, you did. And I need you to explain it to me, because you’re on suicide watch as it is, and I want to get a clear picture of what’s going on here before we proceed.”

Awsten tilted his head. “Suicide watch?” he echoed in confusion.

“Yes. Have you noticed that you haven’t been in your room without hospital staff for a single second? That’s not normal.” 

Awsten dropped his head into his hands. “I’m not gonna do anything,” he said frustratedly. 

“Well, we need to be sure of that.” 

“I don’t want to die,” Awsten lied. He did kind of want to die, but he wasn’t actually going to kill himself. That was stupid. “I just wanted to start over.” 

“What was your plan?” 

“To leave.”

“Right. But why? And where, since it sounds like you definitely had somewhere in mind? I know you said not to ask, but I’m trying to get all the info I can.” 

Awsten eyed him carefully. “If I tell you, you can’t tell anyone, right?” 

“I can’t tell anyone where you were going, no.” 

“What if I leave again and I go to the same place? Can you tell anyone then?” 

“If I believe that you or someone else is in danger or the police ask me about it, yes, I can tell them. But it sounds like Mr. W already knows, and he is not bound by confidentiality.” 

Awsten thought intently for a few seconds and then deflated. “Fine. I’ll tell you.”

And he did.

 

* * *

“He says he won’t receive any visitors right now,” Tyrell reported with a frown.

“Even me?” Geoff pleaded. 

He shook his head regretfully. 

“Could you ask him?” 

“He said no one but his therapists, man. I’m sorry.” 

“Alright. Would you deliver this letter to him for me, then?” he asked, holding out two folded pieces of paper from the prayer request pad.

He nodded, taking it. 

“How is he? Mary said he spoke to a doctor, but that was all she knew.” 

“He’s eighteen, so I can’t say anything else,” Tyrell told him.

“I understand. Thank you.” Geoff started to walk away, but Tyrell's voice stopped him.

“Hey, mister?” 

He turned. 

“I know I wasn't there, but some of the nurses were talking about you, and I want to tell you that I think it’s really cool that you read out loud all night.” 

He smiled a bit. “Oh, that is what we do at home. Not for nearly so long, but… he enjoys it.” 

“Yeah, but you don’t even know if he could hear you. And you did it anyway. I think that says a lot.”

Geoff looked down at the floor. “Thank you for watching over him.” 

“No problem.” 

He slipped his hands into his pockets and returned to the waiting room, where, with a quiet sigh, he sat down in the same chair he’d been sitting in twelve hours before.

 

* * *

 

Awsten yawned as Lucas walked through the door a few hours later. 

“Hey,” Lucas smiled, and Awsten lifted an arm and held it flimsily out toward him, his hospital bracelet hanging loosely off of his wrist. 

“Hi,” Awsten replied quietly as Lucas came forward and hugged him. 

“How are you feeling?” 

As they pulled apart, Awsten shrugged one shoulder. 

“So,” Lucas said as he took a seat, “you know Tyrell?” 

Awsten rolled his eyes. He had been relieved when the tall man had announced that he was swapping roles with a girl named Rosie. Rosie was, in Awsten's mind, a much better nurse. She had pale pink scrubs and short, red hair, and the best part about her was that she only spoke if Awsten spoke to her first. Awsten had almost forgotten she was still sitting in the room at all.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Lucas chuckled. “He let slip that you’ve been refusing all your food, so, at Zakk’s suggestion…” He held up a pastry bag from Starbucks.

Awsten swallowed anxiously. He hadn’t been to Starbucks since… 

But then he caught a whiff of cinnamon. 

“It’s a morning bun,” Lucas explained. “Do you want it?”

Awsten nodded and slowly took the bag from him, peeking inside. “Thanks.” 

“Yeah, no problem.” 

Awsten reached in, broke off a piece of the food, chewed and swallowed it, and then held the bag back out to Lucas, who shook his head. 

“It’s for you,” he said. “I already ate.”

“Oh, thanks.” Awsten took another bite. Through it, he said, “It’s the stupidest name.”

“What is?”

“‘Morning bun.’ We all know it’s a fucking cinnamon roll.”

Lucas opened his mouth, presumably to chastise him for swearing, and then closed it. 

Awsten smiled for the first time since the day before. “You’re not the boss of me anymore,” he teased. “I can say whatever the hell I want and you can’t stop me.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lucas sighed, but he was smiling back.

“Fuck,” Awsten said, looking him dead in the eyes. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck!”

“Okay, take it easy,” Lucas warned.

“Fuuuuck,” he grinned one more time for good measure, and then he went back to the food, taking another big bite. 

“Why’d you say no to breakfast and lunch if you’re hungry?” Lucas wondered, watching him eat.

“Hospital food sucks ass,” he said through his mouthful. 

“It’s not that bad.”

Awsten looked at him like he was crazy. “Yeah, it is.” 

“Hmm.”

Some time passed in silence, Awsten devouring the pastry and Lucas staring at him as he licked the cinnamon and sugar off of his fingers after every bite. And then -

“Why did you run away?” Lucas asked candidly.

Awsten’s head snapped up to look at him. 

Silence.

“Uh… I don’t know.” 

“Yes, you do,” Lucas countered calmly. “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing, I just…” Awsten shook his head and busied himself with another mouthful of cinnamon bun. He probably only had two left; he needed to slow down. “I wanted to start over.”

“Why?” 

Awsten shrugged. “There’s nothing good in Lakeview anymore. No friends since Alex left for college back in Maryland and Otto hates my guts, no Mom anymore, no Mr. W… I’m not gonna stay and work at the frozen yogurt place forever.” 

“What happened with Mr. W?” Lucas asked, his eyebrows knitting together.

“He wrote in his journal how difficult and annoying I am,” he said, sure to keep his voice light. He immediately slid his right pointer finger into his mouth to taste any granules of sugar that might have gotten stuck there.

“And Otto?” 

“We had a fight.”

“About what?”

Awsten shook his head.

“Hmm. And Otto’s family?” 

“I was a problem just by being around,” he shrugged.

That had Lucas sitting forward in his chair. 

“I needed to leave. And now the same thing’s happening again with Mr. W.” 

“Awsten, your existence is never a problem.”

“No. Either I’m an asshole, or they let me down.”

“How so?”

Awsten didn’t answer the question; instead, he muttered, “You’re the only grown-up who’s never let me down. You and Zakk.”

As always, Lucas was ready with a reply.

“You have spent much, much more time with these people than you have with us. I guarantee you that if you spent as much time with us, we would find some way to let you down, too. And that’s not because we don’t care about you; it’s because we’re human. And because you hold everyone around you to impossibly high standards.”

Awsten stared at him.

“You’re idealizing the people around you. It’s easy to do, especially since you had a rough time with your parents. You’d compare your parents to other kids’ parents, your friends to their friends, right?”

Whoa. Awsten paused and then nodded.

“But nobody’s perfect, Awsten. Not your parents - the ones you have now or your biological ones - not Mr. W, not Zakk or me… not even you.”

He hung his head. 

“You’re not perfect, and you’re mad at them for not being perfect, either. That doesn’t seem very fair.”

“I’m not mad at them for not being perfect,” he protested. 

“Then why are you mad?” 

Awsten blew out a short, angry breath. “I’m mad at Mr. W for letting me stay with him when he didn’t like me, and I’m mad at Otto’s parents cause his dad helped me pack a bag to run away when he should have at least  _tried_ to help me and Otto work things out, and his mom didn’t even talk to me one time after I left. I know Otto’s their son, but they… _she_ is supposed to be my mom, but a good mom wouldn’t just let their kid run away without even asking them if they were okay.” 

“I don’t want to interfere where it’s not my place, Awsten, but I think that all of those people love you very much.”

Awsten snorted.

“You don’t have to take my word for it, but it’s true. Both sides deserve a chance to be heard; you should tell them how you feel, but it means you need to listen to how they feel, too.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” 

Lucas nodded and sat back, surprising Awsten by being willing to let everything move to the back burner. “Okay. What should we talk about?” 

“Um, how’s Travis?”

Lucas just smiled.

“How is he?” Awsten pressed, crunching his Starbucks bag up so he wouldn’t have to look at the logo anymore.

“Travis is doing really, really well.”

 

* * *

 

Since Mary had been sitting beside Geoff and soothingly rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb, he was almost sad when a nurse came over to let them know that Awsten had decided to take visitors and that he ‘didn’t care’ who came in to see him. 

“Go ahead,” Geoff nodded to the Woods. 

“Oh, honey, no,” Mary replied, shaking her head. “You should. You did all that work to find him yesterday, and you’ve been up all night.”

“He is your son,” Geoff stated, just as he had the night before.  
  
This time, though, the words worked, and in seconds, Geoff was left in the waiting room alone.

 

* * *

 

“So,” Awsten muttered after the Woods had been sitting quietly in his hospital room for a while, “where’s Otto?” 

“He went back to school, honey,” Mrs. Wood explained. “He wanted to stay, but it’s Monday, so he has English and his algebra class.”

“We already took algebra,” Awsten commented at the same time Mr. Wood muttered, “I thought he had biology.”

“You did,” Mrs. Wood nodded. “They just like you to take it at a more advanced level when you’re older.” Then she looked at Mr. Wood and said kindly under her breath, “That’s Tuesdays and Thursdays, honey, remember?” 

Mr. Wood shrugged, looking confused. 

Awsten glanced between them for a moment and then laid down in his bed and pulled the covers up to his shoulders. 

“How are you feeling, baby?” she asked him.

He shrugged. 

“I heard you have a low fever.” 

He shrugged again, although she was right. According to his doctor, he’d been returning normal temperatures on the thermometer all night but had come down with a low fever shortly after Lucas had left to go back toward Peace and Purpose to “catch up on sleep.”

Silence returned.

“I wanted Otto,” Awsten grumbled to himself. He hadn’t meant for them to be able to pick up on the words, but apparently they did, because Mrs. Wood replied.

“He wanted to see you, too, baby, but Daddy thought it was best that he go back to school.”

_Of course._

“He said he wanted to apologize to you,” she continued. Out of the corner of his eye, Awsten saw her reach for his hand but then stop herself. “He slept here beside you all night, sweetheart. Right there-” she pointed at the other side of the narrow mattress - "squished beside you in your bed. We tried to take him home, but he wouldn’t come.” 

“But he went to school.” Awsten kept his expression perfectly neutral as he imagined Otto on some sidewalk with a styrofoam coffee cup and a backpack slung over his shoulder, walking between two other guys, all of them wearing baseball jerseys and grinning as they walked together to class underneath a canopy of orange autumn leaves.

“I made him go,” Mr. Wood said. “He didn’t want to.”

He probably _did_ want to, though. He probably just put on a show at the hospital for the visitors Rian had mentioned and then ran away to school and all his new friends so he wouldn’t have to think about Awsten anymore.

“He misses you so badly, baby,” Mrs. Wood frowned, almost as though she could read his mind. “What even happened between you two? Otto won’t tell us.”

Awsten had run through the scenario a million times, but he’d never spoken of it, not even once. He played it back in his mind, giving the Woods a vague summary as he spoke. 

“I walked in on him looking at suitcases, and he told me he was going to UT Dallas. And I was… blindsided.”

 

_“So, what, you’re gonna join a fraternity and get a degree and a girlfriend and go work some white collar job?” Awsten had chuckled. “Wow. Cool.”_

_Otto shifted uncomfortably._

_Awsten paused. “Wait - is that actually the plan?”_

_“I don’t know.”_

_“Otto. You can’t be serious.”_

_“Yeah. I’m going,” he shrugged._

_“When?” Awsten demanded._

_“Wednesday. It's July second.”_

_Awsten scoffed. “That’s bullshit.”_

_“No, it’s not. I made the baseball team, and I’m moving in early anyway to take a cr-”_

_“The baseball team!” Awsten echoed, laughing incredulously._

_Otto stared at him for a long moment._

_Awsten didn’t back down. “I just don’t get it. You hate school!”_

_Otto raised his eyebrows. “No, I don’t.”_

_“Yes, you do. We always talked ab-”_

_“_ You _hate school, Awsten._ You _do. Not me.”_

_“We complain about it all the time!”_

_“Yeah, so? We complain about everything. Doesn’t mean I actually hate it.”_

_“It’s just gonna be high school all over again.”_

_“No, it’s not,” Otto disagreed, shaking his head. “I get to pick my classes. And I’ll be on a real team and live in a dorm with a roommate-”_

_“Who’s probably going to smoke pot and burn popcorn and fuck girls in front of you. Or guys.”_

_Otto’s jaw clenched. “Why are you being like this?” he demanded. “You’re supposed to be happy for me!”_

_Awsten shrugged and walked a few steps away to fiddle with a pen lying on Otto’s desk. “I just think it’s stupid.”_

_“Well, that’s a reflection of you, not me.”_

_Awsten froze. Suddenly, his stomach felt cold. He forced out, “Did you learn that in therapy?”_

_Otto stood up and grabbed a t-shirt, pulling it over his head. “Dad was right,” he said absently as he got dressed. “I should’ve kept waiting to tell you.”_

_Awsten scoffed. “Waiting? How long have you known?”_

_“I got in the week after the thing with Michael,” he sighed. “Went to visit and meet with the baseball coach on that weekend I didn’t go see you at the group home. Signed my pink sheet that Monday morning.”_

_“So you’ve known since… since…”_

_“The beginning of March.”_

_“It’s almost July!”_

_Otto nodded, still not bothering to look at him._

_“Fuck you!” Awsten cried. “Why didn’t you say anything?”_

_Otto whipped around. “Because I knew you’d react just like this!” he answered angrily. “Maybe you’re sad I’m leaving, but I can’t stay here with you forever. Maybe it’s not that, though. Maybe you’re just jealous, Awsten!”_

_“Jealous?! I don’t wanna go to fucking college!”_

_“Then why are you acting like this?”_

_“Because! No one here goes to college!”_

_“Well, I’m not like everyone here, Awsten. Did you ever notice that? In all these years, did you ever notice anything about me?” He shook his head in disgust. “No, probably not. You only wanted someone to rescue you from mean Mom and Dad. It didn’t matter who I was.”_

_“Otto, what the fuck?” Awsten asked dangerously._

_“I’ve thought about that for years,” Otto admitted, fully restoring his cool as he continued to get dressed. “I could’ve been anyone as long as you had a place to go on the weekend.”_

_“That’s not true. You’re-”_

_“Save it,” Otto sighed. “We’ll never know.”_

_“_ I _know!” Awsten insisted, raising his voice again. “That’s bullshit, Otto. You know it, too. You-” Hot anger flashed through him. “How could you say something like that?!”_

_“How could_ you _say something like that?” Otto shot back._

_“Because- because-” Awsten spluttered._

_“Because!” Otto echoed mockingly, and Awsten blinked at him in shock._

_“Fuck you!” he repeated._

_“Yeah, fuck me,” Otto chuckled emptily._

_“No, seriously! Fuck you!”_

_Otto sighed again. “Get out, Awsten. I’ve got to pack, anyway. Now that the cat’s out of the bag I might as well start.”_

_“Don’t forget your meds,” Awsten spat, grabbing the tiny orange bottle off of the bookshelf and throwing it at him._

_It hit Otto in the chest and fell on the floor, the pills rattling loudly as they hit the ground, and he looked down at them before his eyes flew up to Awsten with a fire in them that Awsten had never seen. “Oh, you…” Otto growled._

_“What?” Awsten provoked, stepping closer. “Huh?”_

_Otto shook his head, and Awsten could see him clench his jaw._

_“Tell me, you fucker.”_

_“Nope. Just get the hell out of my room.”_

_“I thought it was ‘our’ room,” he said._

_“Not anymore. You have your own room at home. Maybe you should use it.”_

_Crossly, Awsten pointed out, “I can’t go home.”_

_“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you opened your fucking mouth.”_

_For some reason, the thing he wanted most in the world was to get under Otto’s skin and push him over the edge, no matter the consequences. "_ _I just can’t believe it,” he said. “College._ College _. I mean, you’re smart, but…”_

_Otto's jaw clenched. “But what?”_

_“Nothing.”_

_Otto turned to look at him and crossed his arms over his chest. “No, tell me. But what?”_

_“But you’re honestly a little crazy now,” he confessed, smirking a little and shrugging one shoulder. “You really think you can handle all this?”_

_“Get out.”_

_“I mean, I’m just l-”_

_Through gritted teeth, Otto ordered, “Get. The fuck. Out of my room.”_

_“Otto, come on. Seriously. What are you-”_

_“Get out!" Otto said, rushing forward and shoving at his shoulders. "You’re being a fucking asshole! God! Is it not enough for you to be completely suffocating all the time?”_

_Awsten’s stomach dropped, but he managed to smack Otto's hands off of him._

_“Now you have to go and do this, too, right before I leave?!” Otto continued as he gave Awsten another push in the direction of the door. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Maybe you should brush up on your manners.” He laughed dryly. “Oh, wait. Your parents never taught you any.”_

_“Fuck you!” Awsten spat again, his hands balling up into fists._

_But Otto wasn’t finished. “You’re mad I’m going to college? Well, too bad - have fun being stuck here for the rest of your life.”_

_“I’m not gonna be stuck here!”_

_“Where are you gonna do, Awsten? Huh? Go to college? Don’t be jealous that I’m getting out and you’re not.”_

_“I’m not jealous!” he insisted, stepping closer._

_“Oh, really?” Otto asked, throwing down the t-shirt in his hand. “I don’t believe that for a fucking second. Cause you need me. You’re the clingiest person I’ve ever met. Now I’m not gonna be around anymore, and you hate it here. You want to come with me like always, but you can’t, Awsten. You didn’t do the work. You never have. And now look where you are, stuck here forever. You’re gonna wind up just like your mom and dad.”_

_Awsten’s mouth gaped open. He was at a complete loss for words. After several choice phrases flickered through his mind, he finally settled on, “I fucking hate you!”_

_“Good. I fucking hate you, too.”_

_“I never want to see you again!”_

_“Then stay out of my life.”_

_“Stay out of mine!” And Awsten ran out of the room, past Mr. Wood, and right for the staircase._

_“Awsten?” Mr. Wood asked concernedly as he blew past._

_“Fuck you! Fuck all of you!”_

_“Awsten!”_

_There was a loud bang from Otto’s room, as though a drawer had been slammed or something heavy had crashed onto his desk, but Awsten didn’t stick around to determine the source of the noise. With tears burning in his eyes, he ran straight through the front door. His feet hit the pavement hard as he ran all the way to the lake, where he collapsed on the ground, punching the rocky bank over and over and over again until his knuckles were covered in blood and dirt._

 

“You found me after that,” Awsten told Mr. Wood. “Then you took me back, and Otto was gone, and I packed a bag, and I left.” He shook his head and looked over at Mrs. Wood. “I know I’m not your son and I never will be, but why would you lie to me?” 

“You _are_ my son. And baby, what did we lie about?” Mrs. Wood asked him, heartbroken.

“That you care. You don’t care! You always leave me,” he said, looking at the woman he used to call ‘Mom’, “and you always let me leave,” he accused Mr. Wood. 

“Awsten, if we had tried to stop you, it would have been worse,” Mr. Wood explained tiredly. “We all know that, son. You-”

“I am not your son!” he interrupted angrily. “I know I’m not! I heard you tell her about the piano lessons, so stop calling me that!”

Confusion crossed both adults’ faces. 

“Look, it doesn’t matter,” he spat in exasperation, shaking his head. “Just stop pretending like you care. You can go home.”

“We _do_ care,” Mr. Wood said dangerously.

“Honey,” Mrs. Wood begged.

“No!” Awsten cried. “Do you even know where I was all this time?”

“Do you really believe,” Mr. Wood said loudly, “that we would just let you run away? Forget whatever you think of me - do you think that _she,”_ Mr. Wood continued, pointing at his wife, “would _ever_ be okay with you just out there somewhere?”

“Yeah.”

“No!” Mrs. Wood pleaded, and tears began spilling down her cheeks.

Good. Let her feel bad. Let her feel a fraction of the pain Awsten had been feeling for months.

“Awsten,” Mrs. Wood began, trying to control her wobbling voice, “you are my son, baby. You always have been. I love you more than anything, and I w-” 

“Then why do you always send me away?!” he demanded. “You don’t want me! I’m too much to deal with! I get it, so you might as well say it and get it over with!”

She blinked in surprise. “Awsten, no, honey! What in the world you talking about?” 

“When I was in third grade, you called CPS on me,” he reminded her angrily. “When I was in tenth grade, you called CPS again, and we didn’t talk for more than a year. Then when… you know. At school. You sent me to Peace and Purpose, and then I finally came back, but I ran away and you just wanted me to stay gone. Rian said if you leave and people try to find you, it means they care. But you didn’t!”

Mr. Wood snapped, “When the sun set that the first night, we knew _exactly_ where you were. We’d been asking all the neighbors and all of your friends, but none of them had seen you, so when Geoff called to let us know you were with him, it was a relief.”

Mrs. Wood added, “Baby, we never would have stopped looking for you if we didn’t know you were somewhere safe.” 

“And your mama didn’t call CPS when you were in tenth grade,” Otto’s father stated protectively.

“Yes,” Awsten insisted.

“No, she didn’t. I did.”

Awsten just stared at him. 

“You were the only kid I’ve ever met who was excited to take a bath during a playdate on a Saturday morning,” Mr. Wood sighed, looking down at the tile floor. “You used to cry when we were nice to you - if we got you a toy or bought you a soda or an ice cream cone, the waterworks would start. That stuff scared us, but we could handle it. You got bigger, and you started turning up with bruises, and that we couldn’t handle.” He glanced at Mrs. Wood. “Not even me, to tell you the truth. It wasn’t right. You were only a kid.”

“We called and called,” Mrs. Wood said softly. “We talked to everyone we could think of. They did home inspections and interviewed us and you and your parents, but they wouldn’t help you. The school, the police, DFCS, nobody could ever find enough evidence to do anything.”

“Which was ridiculous,” Mr. Wood commented, and he sounded angry. “God help me, I was getting ready to take you out of there myself."

"But we knew you kept coming over," Mrs. Wood added, "and we knew that so long as you were with us, you were safe. And we would do whatever we could to help you.” 

Awsten didn’t know how he was supposed to feel. 

“Do you remember why you got placed in that foster home when you were eight?” Mr. Wood asked quietly. 

Awsten clenched his jaw and nodded; the image of that washed-out police photo of the black eye he’d received from his father was still branded in his mind. Awsten was in third grade, and he’d been wearing a tank top with Mickey Mouse printed on it. Fucking Mickey Mouse. 

“And do you remember what happened a few years ago?” 

“You videoed me throwing up at the lake,” Awsten growled, “and then you showed it to the police to get rid of me.”

“Oh, honey, is that how you remember it?” Mrs. Wood asked sadly.

Awsten nodded once and crossed his arms.

“Well, can I tell you how I remember it?” Mr. Wood asked. 

Awsten huffed.

“You’d been missing for a day and a half,” he began in a gruff voice. “You weren’t at school on Friday, and we hadn’t seen you all day Saturday. Otto was worried, your mama was worried, and I was worried, too. You’d show up late to classes, yeah, but you didn’t usually miss full days.” 

He rolled his eyes; he skipped a lot more school more than Mr. Wood would ever know. 

“You spent the night every Friday, and you were with us all of Saturday, but we didn't know where you were, which was a huge red flag. So I headed to your house to look for you while Mama went to the lake.”

“I found you down by the water,” Mrs. Wood told him, her voice thin. “You were so pale,” she whispered, “and you had dark circles under your eyes, and I don’t think you really recognized me when I first walked up to you.”

“You were like an animal,” Mr. Wood stated bluntly.

“ _David._ ”

“Well, he was. If he’s gonna accuse us of whatever he wants, he should know.” 

She sighed quietly and reached over to hold her husband's hand. “You were confused and tired," she said to Awsten, "and you looked sick, baby. You were angry, too. I asked you if you’d spent the night outside, and I asked where you’d been and if you were hurt and whether you felt alright, but all you kept saying was, ‘Hungry. Hungry.’” 

Awsten didn’t remember that at all.

She swallowed. “So I called Daddy, and I told him to bring a jar of peanut butter and all the bread we had to the lake right away.”

“I was almost to your house, but I turned around and drove home. I got the food, and since I could hear you crying in the background of the call, I got the video camera.”

Awsten’s lip involuntarily twitched into a snarl.

“I know,” Mr. Wood said calmly. “I know how it sounds. Your mother wasn’t happy about it either, but honey, it was the only time other than your giant bruise that I knew we could actually make a solid case to get you out of there.” He exhaled and rubbed at his temple. “I turned the camera on before I got out of the car, because I didn’t know what the hell I was about to see. And I’m damn glad I did, because you were hanging on to Mama and crying up a storm.” 

The only thing Awsten could feel was embarrassment. He shut his eyes. 

“When you saw me… you didn’t even look like yourself. Just like she said, it was like you didn’t know who I was. I’ve never thought of it that way, but she's right. Awsten, it really was like looking at an animal. You grabbed the loaf of bread out of my hands and ripped into the side of the bag. You pulled two pieces out of the middle and stuffed them right into your mouth.”

Awsten blinked; Mr. Wood’s words sent the memory hurtling back.

 

_The plain bread was painful against the roof of his dry mouth. He choked out an apology as sticky drool started trickling down one side of his chin, and he began to helplessly sob again as Mr. Wood handed him a freshly peanut-buttered slice of bread._

_“What’s the camera for?” Mrs. Wood asked disapprovingly, her hand rubbing up and down Awsten’s knobbed back._

_“He can’t stay there anymore,” Mr. Wood responded frankly as he passed Awsten a new sandwich, which he hastily devoured. “I’m done watching this. I’m getting him out of there.”_

_With no warning, Awsten vomited._

_It was loud and gross, a globby mess of bread and bile puddled mostly in front of him, but some landed on his legs, which were crossed underneath him. He didn’t react or even blink, just shoved another giant bite of the food into his mouth. His fingers trembled against his lips._

_“I’m getting him out of there,” Mr. Wood repeated. He cracked a bottle of water open and held it out, and Awsten dropped the sandwich straight into the grass in favor of downing the liquid. He whimpered in pain as it slid down his throat. He drained the whole thing, picked the bread back up (right off of the ground), and resumed eating._

 

“Yeah, I remember. So are you gonna do it now, too?”

“Do what?” Mr. Wood wondered.

“Send me away.”

It was Mrs. Wood who answered. “No, baby, of course not.”

“Well, you should. I’m just gonna leave again, so.”

“Awsten,” Mrs. Wood said carefully. “Honey… I don’t want to ask this, but I need to know. I’ve been wondering for a whole day now.” 

_I don’t owe you anything anymore_ , he wanted to tell her, but he was curious about what she was going to ask. 

“I’d like to know where you were going, but if you only want to answer one thing, I’d like to know whether or not you were trying to…” She faltered.

“Kill myself?” Awsten supplied flatly. 

Looking ashamed, she nodded. “Yes.” 

This marked the fourth time he’d heard that question since he’d woken up a handful of hours before. “No.” 

“No?” she echoed.

“No, I wasn’t trying to fucking kill myself,” he responded in annoyance. “Can everybody stop asking me that?”

The room fell quiet. Mrs. Wood reached toward him, but Awsten ducked out of the way.

“Stop!”

“Awsten-”

“No. I don’t want you to touch me.”

She looked crushed. “Baby, Daddy and I-”

“He’s not my dad!” 

Mr. Wood looked at Mrs. Wood, his expression blank.

“And you’re not my mom!” 

Mrs. Wood swallowed. There was a pause, and then she whispered, “I see.” 

Awsten stared at her, the words still hanging in the quiet room. He was angry, yes, but maybe he’d crossed the line. 

“Well,” she said weakly, getting her purse and starting to stand, “I love you very, very much. That will never change, Awsten. You are always welcome at our house, honey, any time. I’ll give you some t-” 

“You made me fucking ravioli!” he cried. 

Mrs. Wood stopped speaking and sat right back down in her chair, staring at him.

Awsten knew he was being ridiculous, knew he’d picked the stupidest thing to yell at her about out of everything that had been said, and yes, it had been almost a year, but he was still hurt and enraged and almost offended by the pure disregard for what he’d been through, the lack of thought. How could she not realize? And now, after everything, she was going to walk out?

“That night, after what happened at school, you made me ravioli,” he continued angrily, “and it looked like his blood all over my plate. Not sauce, just blood, and I was supposed to eat it. It was all chunky, just like his brain, and-” He stopped and gritted his teeth, and she did reach forward then, almost aggressively, grabbing him and pulling him against her. 

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” she whispered urgently into his ear. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think about it.”

“You should have!” he yelled. He waited for Mr. Wood to defend his wife, but no words came. There was only the quiet murmur of her desperate apologies as she held him so tightly that it was hard to breathe.

“Why did you do that to me?” he asked, almost pleadingly. 

“I wasn’t thinking straight,” came the whispered reply. She squeezed him closer. “I wasn’t thinking at all.” 

“I left, and I was mad, but I still wanted you,” he said sadly, switching gears. He lifted his hands, wiggled them out from her steadfast grip, and wrapped his arms around her neck. “I'm pissed, but I just wanted you, every day, every night. I know I’m too old, but I still need a mom…”

“You’re not too old, baby,” she told him fervently. “You’re not. I wanted you, too. Oh, my sweet boy. My sweet boy.” 

“You left me!”

“ _You_ left _me,_ ” she countered immediately, pulling back a few inches to look at him. 

He lowered his head, trying to hide the pain in his eyes, but she gently pulled his chin right back up. 

“ _You_ left, baby. We were trying to do what was best for you.” 

“Which was what?” he demanded.

“Give you space.” 

It was Mr. Wood who replied, and Awsten looked over at him. 

He continued, “We figured you’d cool off and come home, but you never did.”

Awsten shook his head. “I thought you guys hated me cause of what happened with Otto.” 

Mrs. Wood spoke first. “There is nothing - _nothing_ , baby - that you could ever do that would make me stop loving you.”

He frowned deeply.

“Come here, sweetie,” she said, her eyes filling with fresh tears. 

He leaned toward her that time, hooking his hands onto her shoulders and shutting his eyes. 

“I missed you so much, my sweetheart,” she murmured into his neck. 

He opened his eyes in realization. “I heard you."

“What?” 

“I don’t know when, but when I was sleeping, I could hear you. You kept saying how much you missed me. And I felt... happy.” 

She kissed his hair but didn’t respond verbally. Awsten wondered if she was holding back a sob. The response came a few moments later in a whisper. “I love you, my baby. With my whole heart.”

He let her hug him for a moment longer before he gently pushed her off of him. “I’m still pissed at you guys,” he noted, sitting up but not looking at them, “but not as much as I was before.” 

“If it helps,” Mr. Wood said quietly, “I feel the same way toward you.” 

Awsten cracked a sideways smile.

“I know that you don’t see me as a father. That’s okay. But you know that I love you,” Mr. Wood stated. He looked at Awsten like he was awaiting an answer.

“Yeah,” Awsten replied. 

They were quiet for a few moments, and then Mrs. Wood pointed at a folded paper on Awsten’s bedside table. “What's that?” 

“Oh. Um, apparently it’s from Mr. W.”

Her brow furrowed. “You haven’t read it?” 

He shook his head.

“You should,” they both said together. 

He shook his head again.

“Maybe later?” Mrs. Wood suggested, but before Awsten could answer, Mr. Wood said, “I don’t know what it says, but he’s not angry. He’s had a hell of a morning-”

“David, baby…”

“-and I think you should give him a chance. He’s in the waiting room right now. Refuses to go home.” 

Awsten told himself he didn’t care, didn’t care, didn’t care. But he kept picturing Mr. W sitting there with his hands folded in his lap, maybe with a book on his knee. Awsten knew that vacant look he had when he hadn’t slept long enough, and he would hate for Mr. W to be wearing it because of him.

“Fine,” Awsten muttered, “I’ll read it. But I want to be alone.” 

 

* * *

 

“Geoff?” one of the nurses called. 

Geoff quickly looked up from the sentence he’d been absently reading over and over again. 

The woman motioned him for him to come back into the maze of halls with her, and he hurried to gather his few things - the white, plastic bag from the gift shop, the half-drunk water bottle Lucas had forced on him a few hours previously, and his coat - and followed her. 

“He just started asking for you,” she told him. “He said he needs to see you _right now_ , that it can’t wait _._ ”

Geoff’s heart squeezed in both relief and anxiety.

“I told him I’d have to check and see if you were still here, so it’s a good thing you are. I don’t know what he wants with you, but it seems important.”

They walked side by side to his room, that same small square from the night before, and Geoff took a silent but deep breath before walking inside. 

Awsten was propped up on his pillow, but he slowly sat up straight when Geoff came in. With wide, tear-filled eyes and an unreadable expression, he held both of his arms out toward Geoff like a child. His lip quivered as he attempted to hold himself together.

Geoff dropped all of his things onto the plastic chair and rushed forward to gently embrace his former student.

As soon as Geoff’s arms folded around him, Awsten broke down crying. He hid his face in Geoff’s shoulder and clung to him as though his life depended on it.

“Oh, no, no,” Geoff hummed sadly.

“I got your l-letter,” Awsten choked out. 

“Shh,” Geoff murmured gently, “everything is alright.”

“I’m so s-sorry, Mr. W! I l-love you,” he sobbed. 

Geoff held him close and exhaled at the words. He shut his eyes. “And I you,” he replied softly. 

Awsten wept.


	9. November (Part III)

** November 3 **

The hospital, it turned out, was boring. Time moved slowly, nothing was ever fun or interesting, and Awsten soon began asking every doctor and nurse who came into his room when he would be able to go home. 

Awsten had been drifting in and out of sleep for nearly an hour with School of Rock quietly playing in front of him on Mr. W’s phone when a nurse came in and demanded that he have an early dinner.

“I don’t want anything. Besides, I already ate,” he complained groggily.

She glanced down at his file and then looked back up at him. “This says you haven’t had anything all day. You need to eat. I’m sure your dad would agree.” 

“My dad?” Awsten repeated in confusion.

“Yes,” she said, and she pointed behind him. 

Awsten froze. Both his breathing and his heart monitor sped up. No, no, his father couldn’t be here. There was the restraining order, and Mr. and Mrs. Wood would never let him in, never. And if Mr. W figured out he had -

“Awsten,” came a gentle voice. 

He looked over his shoulder with terrified eyes, but the only person there was Mr. W. 

“It’s alright.”

Awsten exhaled heavily and dropped his head back onto his pillow. He nodded to let Mr. W know he was okay as he closed his eyes. 

The nurse looked confusedly between them but then said, “Tonight we have pork, macaroni and cheese, and string beans, or beef, mashed potatoes, and peas. Which plate would you rather have?”

Awsten wrinkled his nose and looked hopelessly at Mr. W, who seemed to read his mind. 

“The pork, please. For both of us,” Mr. W answered.

“Two pork plates,” she repeated as she made a note on Awsten’s papers. “Coming right up.” She left, closing the door behind her.

"You may have my macaroni," Mr. W said. "Hospital potatoes are nothing like the ones I make at home."  


"Thanks."

Mr. W nodded.

“I’m so glad I’m not on suicide watch anymore,” Awsten sighed, flopping onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. 

“I am as well,” Mr. W confessed. “Mostly because I am confident now that you are alright, but also because having a stranger constantly around had me a bit on edge.”

“Yeah, me, too. Every time I fucking moved, they’d stare at me. And I’m glad there are no visiting hours, either.” He turned his head sideways to look at his teacher. “Hey.”

“Yes?”

“She thought you were my dad.” 

Mr. W smiled. “Yes, she did. That is the second time that has happened; once, earlier, while you were asleep, someone asked me about you and referred to you as my son.” 

“That would be kinda cool. If you were my dad, I mean.” 

“I’m not so sure,” Mr. W responded thoughtfully. “I am not very good with small children.”

“I don’t mean then. I mean now.” Awsten shrugged. “Just would kinda make things easier than having to explain to everyone that my mom’s dead and my dad’s in prison. Or… not anymore.” 

“It might be easier, yes.” 

“And you kind of already are. I mean, I know we have to, like… talk about all this shit eventually, but…” He shrugged. “You’ve been acting like my dad for a while now. I kind of like it.”  Without warning, Awsten closed the Netflix app and passed the phone back to Mr. W. “Can you read to me?” 

“Yes,” Mr. W responded despite his slight confusion, “of course. Which story would you like to hear?” He lifted a plastic bag that had been resting against the leg of his chair onto Awsten’s bed. “I have three now.” 

Awsten pulled them out of the bag one at a time and studied the covers. “A tiger book,” he said softly, “the upside-down dog book, and - this one.” He shoved The Tale of Despereaux onto Mr. W’s knee.

“A very nice choice,” Mr. W smiled. 

“Duh. It’s a mouse with a fucking sword.”

Mr. W chuckled.

“Can you sit by me?” Awsten asked hesitantly. He slid over a few inches so that Mr. W had space. 

“Yes, if that would please you. There are illustrations sometimes.” 

“And I like to read it, too.”

Mr. W smiled at him. “Yes. I know that you do.” He opened the book, held it where Awsten could see the pages clearly, and softly cleared his throat. “Chapter one; The Last Mouse.” 

 

* * *

 

_Despereaux’s sister Merlot took him into the castle library, where light came streaming in through tall, high windows and landed on the floor in bright yellow patches._

_“Here,” said Merlot, “follow me, small brother, and I will instruct you on the fine points of how to nibble paper.” Merlot scurried up a chair and from there hopped onto a table on which there sat a huge, open book. “This way, small brother,” she said as she crawled onto the pages of the book._

_And Despereaux followed her from the chair, to the table, to the page._

_“Now then,” said Merlot. “This glue, here, is tasty, and the paper edges are crunchy and yummy, like so.” She nibbled the edge of a page and then looked over at Despereaux. “You try,” she said. “First a bite of some glue and then follow it with a crunch of the paper. And these squiggles. They are very tasty.”_

_Despereaux looked down at the book, and something remarkable happened. The marks on the pages, the “squiggles” as Merlot referred to them, arranged themselves into shapes. The shapes arranged themselves into words, and the words spelled out a delicious and wonderful phrase: Once upon a time._

_“‘Once upon a time,’” whispered Despereaux._

_“What?” said Merlot._

_“Nothing.”_

_“Eat,” said Merlot._

_“I couldn’t possibly,” said Despereaux, backing away from the book._

_“Why?”_

_“Um,” said Despereaux. “It would ruin the story.”_

_“The story? What story?” Merlot stared at him. A piece of paper trembled at the end of one of her indignant whiskers. “It’s just like Pa said when you were born. Something is not right with you.” She turned and scurried from the library to tell her parents about this latest disappointment._

_Despereaux waited until she was gone, and then he reached out and, with one paw, touched the lovely words. Once upon a time._

_He shivered. He sneezed. He blew his nose into his handkerchief._

_“‘Once upon a time,’” he said aloud, relishing the sound. And then, tracing each word with his paw, he read the story of a beautiful princess and the brave knight who serves and honors her._

_Despereaux did not know it, but he would need, very soon, to be brave himself._

_Have I mentioned that beneath the castle there was a dungeon? In the dungeon, there were rats. Large rats. Mean rats._

_Despereaux was destined to meet those rats._

_Reader, you must know that an interesting fate (sometimes involving rats, sometimes not) awaits almost everyone, mouse or man, who does not conform._

 

Geoff turned the page. “Chapter four; Enter the Pea,” he read, but before he could continue, three of Awsten’s fingers bumped lightly into his jaw. Geoff winced in pain. Awsten immediately retracted his fingers.

“What are you doing?” Geoff asked sharply just as Awsten whispered, “What happened to your face?” 

Geoff looked down at him; Awsten had been leaning half on his pillow, half on Geoff’s left arm, and Geoff had completely forgotten that a bruise must be forming on his jaw. 

Well.

Apparently, it had formed enough.

Gravely, Awsten repeated, “What happened to your face?” And then, worse, he asked, “Who did this to you?” 

“Oh, I-” Geoff stumbled awkwardly. “Pardon?” 

“You got hit,” Awsten breathed. 

“No,” Geoff lied, but Awsten’s eyes were already wide with alarm. He sat up, just an inch or two below Geoff’s height, and experimentally brushed his fingertips over the tender skin a second time. 

“Did your dad come here?” Awsten asked, his voice still a mere whisper. 

“No,” Geoff repeated, and then he sighed softly. He could not lie, not this time. Being untruthful with Awsten now would only serve to make things worse later; the real story would come out eventually, even if it didn’t come from Geoff. “Yours did.” 

Awsten’s eyes somehow grew wider. 

“I am alright,” Geoff assured hastily, “and he is no longer here.”

“Where did he go?” Awsten anxiously demanded. “And where’s Otto? And where the hell is my mom?!” He shoved the covers back and started to get up out of his bed, but Geoff dropped the book in favor of catching Awsten’s arms to hold him in place. 

“Everyone is alright. Your father was arrested almost immediately.” 

“Arrested? He’s gone?” 

“Yes. Mr. Wood let me know a few hours ago that they are holding him in the jail for now.” 

Awsten nodded, silently processing the information and slowly sitting back down on the mattress. Geoff watched his expression closely. They remained in silence for nearly thirty seconds.

“I’m so sorry,” Awsten finally said, his voice thick. He turned to Geoff, and Geoff could suddenly see that his eyes were full of anger. “This is _exactly_ what I didn’t want to happen. He hurt you, and it’s all my fault.” 

“No,” Geoff said instantly. He shook his head. “You are absolutely not to blame. Mr. Wood and I were protecting you. Even with the outcome, I would do it again this moment.” 

“Mr. Wood? Is he okay?”

“Yes.”

“Did my dad hit him, too?” 

“No.”

“Did he hurt anybody else?” 

Geoff shook his head. 

And then Awsten’s arms wound around Geoff’s neck, and his chin found a place on Geoff’s shoulder. “I’m gonna fucking kill him,” he said calmly. 

“You will do _no_ such thing, Awsten, do you understand?” Geoff responded firmly, but he didn’t pull away. He set one hand on the now-closed book and the other on Awsten’s back. “I will not have you become a criminal.”

Awsten didn’t respond, but he did sniff. Geoff hoped that he wasn’t crying. 

“Gonna kill him,” Awsten muttered again. 

“No.” 

It was Awsten who pulled back. He looked Geoff straight in the eyes and said solemnly, “You’re my family. He doesn’t get to fuck with my family.”

Geoff couldn’t help but smile at the teenager in front of him. His hair was a faded mess, the skin around his eyes was purple, and he was dressed in a hospital gown while fighting off a fever. And there he was, threatening murder. 

“What?” Awsten asked flatly.

_I understand now,_ Geoff wanted to tell him. _In novels, when a character does something silly or says something strange, I can now see why it often triggers a confession of emotion from someone else. You are being utterly ridiculous,_ he wanted badly to say, _and I love you so very much._

His heart still swelled, but he shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Hmmph,” Awsten frowned. He stared at Geoff’s bruise for another few seconds and then stated, “I can help you cover it for school tomorrow. You just have to get this certain kind of makeup stuff. Here,” he said, holding his hand out for Geoff’s phone. “I don’t know the name of it, but I’d know it if I saw the little box thing.”

“Thank you, but I am not returning to school tomorrow.”

Awsten inhaled sharply. “Fuck, did you get fired because of me?!”

“No, no, it is nothing like that. I took a short leave to make sure you were alright. That is all.” 

“Oh.” Awsten paused, swallowed. “Rian says…”

Geoff tilted his head curiously as he waited for Awsten to continue. 

“He says that if you run away and someone tries to find you, it’s because they care about you.” He swallowed again. “You did that.”

Geoff nodded.

“And now you took off work for me.” 

“Yes, I did.” 

“I thought…” He lowered his voice as a look of shame settled on his features. “I really thought you didn’t want me around.” 

“Because of what you read in my journal?”

Awsten nodded, his cheeks reddening. “I’m sorry. Just - Tuna was in your room. I don’t know how she got in there, but she was crying to get out, so I went and got her. She’d pulled all your books off your nightstand shelf, and I was cleaning them up, but that one didn’t have a name on it.”

“So you opened it,” Geoff said softly, understanding.

“Yeah. I was just curious what it was, that’s all,” he pleaded. “And I saw my name, and I wanted to know what you said, and…” He shrugged sadly. “It wasn’t good.” 

“Awsten, if you had just turned the page,” Geoff pleaded sadly. “You stopped in the middle of an entry, and if you had just turned the page-”

He reached down to the leg of the chair and lifted the journal, which Mrs. Wood had retrieved for him earlier that day along with a fresh set of clothes. “Here is where you stopped, yes?” he asked, pointing to the paragraph.

Awsten peered at it and then nodded, looking quickly away.

_I am conflicted,_ Geoff read aloud from the following sentence, _about the novel, but at the moment, I am referring to what I wrote earlier and the way I am feeling presently. Yes, it has been a difficult adjustment. At the same time, I do care for him very much._

Awsten sank down to rest his head on Geoff’s shoulder again, and he closed his eyes as he listened.

_He is a wonderful person who carries an undeniably bright light everywhere he goes. I am learning to understand that light._

Geoff closed the journal. “That was four months ago. I understand it - and you - much, much better now.”

“But you said it was the worst six months of your life,” Awsten reminded sadly. “That was the first thing I read.” 

“These have absolutely not been the worst months of my life,” Geoff disputed, genuinely puzzled. “Where did you see that?”

“Last month,” he answered, his voice small. He repeated, “It was the first thing I saw. Then I went back to the beginning.” 

Geoff thumbed through until he found the entry Awsten was referencing, and he began to scan it. “Awsten, I wrote ‘the most stressful’. Not the worst.”

“Stressful is bad!” 

“Stressful means that I am living a real life again. You taught me that.” As Geoff’s eyes continued to slide down the lines, he began to read aloud. 

_…there are as many good moments with Awsten as there are bad, and truthfully, I would not have him leave. His begging to me tonight not to send him back to his father confirmed that for me - not because he convinced me to let him stay, but because I had already decided before he even began to plead with me. Whatever burden he brings to me next, I will shoulder. He has grown far too important to me to even entertain the idea of casting him out._

“Oh,” Awsten whispered.

_I_ _heard him_ , Geoff continued, _mention to Clark last month at the library that he views me as his best friend. He is mine as well. That must seem strange, for me to be nearly ten years his age but still consider him so close, but Awsten’s arrival in my life has turned everything upside-down. In a stressful, sad, anxiety-inducing way… but also in the best way. He is, in truth, quite a blessing, and I hope that I am able to continue to enjoy his company for a very long time._

Awsten let a little more of his weight rest on Geoff's shoulder. 

_He is asleep on the couch for now. It has been a long day and an even longer night._ Geoff softly cleared his throat. “Look at the last paragraph, please.”

Awsten slowly read the words aloud. “I feel that Awsten is mine to look after, my-” He squinted at the narrow cursive- “responsibility. His father need not be involved.”

“Do you see now?” Geoff inquired. When Awsten didn’t reply, he added, “I cannot edit this. It is hard-bound and handwritten.” 

“I’m sorry,” Awsten murmured. 

“There is no need for apologies. I simply want us to understand each other.” 

Awsten nodded. 

“Now, then. Shall we get back to the story?”

“Can we just stay here for a couple minutes?” he asked softly. 

“Of course.” Geoff closed the journal and set it on the chair on top of The Tale of Desepereaux before returning to his spot beside Awsten, who settled easily back onto him. 

“You didn’t eat your jello, right?” Awsten checked.

“No, I did not.” 

“Can I have it later, too?” 

“Yes, you may.” 

“Cool. Thanks.” He closed his eyes. “I’m just gonna rest for a second.”

“I will be here when you wake,” Geoff assured.

Awsten nodded. “I know.” 

 

* * *

 

** November 4 **

“Awsten?” the same nurse who forced dinner on him the night before asked. “There’s someone here to see you.” 

“Is he in there? Is that his bedroom?” an excited voice asked, and Awsten brightened immediately.

“Is that Travis?!” 

“Can I go in?” Travis’ voice asked, and the nurse nodded and stepped aside. 

In burst Travis, wearing a bright yellow t-shirt with Piglet printed on the front and carrying a gift bag in his hand. When he ran to hug Awsten, both Mr. W and the nurse stepped in to slow him down.

“Be gentle, please,” the nurse reminded Travis sternly as Mr. W slipped out of the room, but Awsten just wanted the damn hug.

“Awsten, Awsten!” Travis cried happily, still colliding somewhat roughly with him. 

Awsten squeezed him tightly. “Dude! How are you?”

“I am very good,” he said, plopping down on the side of the bed without an invitation and shoving the hot pink gift bag erupting with tissue paper in Awsten’s direction. “I got you a present!” 

“Aw, thank you!” 

“It's a flamingo!”

“A flamingo?” Awsten asked, moving some of the lime green tissue paper out of the way to reveal a very large stuffed animal. He reached in and pulled it out. “I love it,” he declared. 

“I got him at the zoo for you! He was the bestest, pinkest thing they have! Well - almost. There was a pinker lion, but God told me it was important to pick you out this one.”

Awsten chuckled.

“Plus, he’s got dingly legs!” Travis said, pointing.

Awsten held it up so that its long legs could swing freely back and forth. “He sure does have dingly legs.” 

“What are you gonna name him?” 

“I don’t know. What do you think?” 

“I think… Pinkie!” he decided, bouncing a little on the mattress.

“Pinkie. That’s perfect. Pinkie it is.” He turned to the flamingo. “Hello, Pinkie.” He put on a funny voice and moved the bird back and forth a little. “Hello, Awsten! Hello, Travis! How are you? I’m huuuungry!” Making a noisy eating sound, he made Pinkie’s stuffed beak peck quickly at Travis’ arm.

Travis laughed and yanked his arm away. “Silly Pinkie!” he cried. “Flamingos eat shrimp, not people!”

Awsten grinned at him, setting the stuffed animal (“dingly” legs and all) on his own lap. “I love him,” he repeated. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” He pointed at Awsten’s hospital gown. “How come you’re wearing a dress?” 

“Ugh, isn’t it gross?” Awsten groaned. He leaned sideways toward Travis. “Here, feel. It’s all stiff.” 

Travis touched tentatively at Awsten’s shoulder and frowned. “Crunchy. You can’t get you a soft one?”

“They don’t have any. They’re all like this.” 

“They don’t got none at all?” 

“None at all,” Awsten repeated, shaking his head. “But it’s okay. I think I can go home soon.” 

“Can I visit you at your home, too?” 

“I hope so.” 

“Maybe you can visit at my home!” 

“Totally, dude. I would love that.”

“I got a room all by myself! And the biggest bed I ever saw! And lotsa goats, and two horses, and a mama, and a sister, and a brother!” 

“What?!” Awsten cried. Lucas had told him a little about Travis living with a nice lady on a farm, but Awsten didn’t know what animals were there or that Travis had siblings. Or that he was calling the woman Mama.

“Yeah, there’s Petunia and Daisy and Violet and Poppy and… Lily and… Pansy. Those are all girl goats. We get the milk from their tummies in morning and we drink some and sell some at the market! It’s real good. Better than the milk at Peace and Purpose. And this lady called Tilda at the market brings me a flower every time we go! And me and Benny get to play in the barn and there’s lots of hay and we can’t get the horses outta their homes without per… per…”

“Permission,” a smiling woman in a floor-length, patchwork skirt supplied from the doorway.

“Yes, permission!”

The woman stepped into the room with two blue balloons, each exclaiming “Get Well Soon!” in white writing. 

“That,” Travis said joyfully, “is my mama!” 

“Oh!” Awsten smiled, “hi!” He wanted to stand up to go over and shake her hand. He hated being confined to his dumb bed since it made him look like he was dying, but he was supposed to be resting so the fever wouldn’t get worse. “I’m Awsten,” he said as she came forward.

“My name is Leslie,” she told him. “I’ve heard all about you.” She handed him the balloons, which were tied to an orange, plastic weight. “I got you these. I didn’t know if Pinkie here was your speed,” she winked. Her short, blonde braids swung a little as she stepped back. 

“I love Pinkie,” Awsten assured her. “Thank you. These are great, too; I really need some color in here. And it’s nice to meet you.” 

Travis whispered loudly to her, “Tell him about how you’re my mama!”

“Oh, yes, of course, sugar,” she whispered back. At a normal volume, she explained, “Travis is my son, which makes me his mama.” 

“I’m ‘dopted!” 

"Yes, I adopted Travis in September."

“That’s awesome,” Awsten grinned, jostling Travis’ knee a little. 

Travis leaned forward and hugged him.

“I missed you, T,” Awsten admitted, hugging him back. 

“I missed you, too. Every day! But not so much anymore.” 

Awsten laughed, not offended. “You’re pretty busy now, huh?” 

“Yep!” He gasped softly as he noticed what was sitting in the plastic chair that was back against the wall. “That’s Oliver!” 

“Yep. You wanna hold him?” 

Travis looked at Awsten with wide eyes and nodded. 

“Okay. You can go get him.” 

Travis beamed and raced over to get the stuffed frog but slowed down as soon as he got close. As reverently as ever, Travis picked him up. “He’s real fragile. I remember it.” 

Leslie looked at Awsten in confusion, but Awsten just shrugged one shoulder like he didn’t know what Travis was talking about. The truth was, Oliver had been Awsten’s most prized possession at Peace and Purpose. He was the only thing that Awsten couldn’t bear to have lost or destroyed. 

“I think he’s not so fragile anymore,” Awsten said. “You can give him a hug if you want.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Awsten nodded. “I think he wants a hug, anyway. I haven’t given him one since yesterday.” 

“Since yesterday?!” Travis cried, outraged. “I get hugs all the time now!” 

Awsten smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. 

“Oh,” Travis said, noticing. “Are you doing the thing where you feel sad and you don’t wanna tell nobody? When you say you’re not crying even though you are?”

“Travis,” Leslie chastised lightly. She dug in her purse for a moment and then handed Awsten a small pack of Kleenex even though he really wasn’t crying. 

“Thanks,” Awsten told her quietly. Politely, he took one out and returned the pack.

“Are you sad cause you didn’t get to go to the zoo?” Travis pressed. 

“No, dude, I’m just f- I’m just happy for you.” 

“I’m happy cause of you, too!” 

“Get over here,” he muttered, pulling Travis into his side. “When are we gonna do our hair pink, huh? I’m ready whenever you are.” 

“Right now!”  
  
Awsten and Leslie both laughed.

They stayed for thirty more minutes, and just after Travis had promised to mail him pictures of all the animals and just before he and his 'new mama’ left, Leslie bent down to give Awsten a hug. “Thank you for being kind to him,” she said quietly, just for Awsten to hear. “He talks about you and Ashton every day, about how wonderfully you treated him. I know there was a boy there who wasn’t so kind-”

“Jawn?” Awsten interrupted, his eyebrows creasing in concern.

“No…”

“Oh - Calum.”

She nodded. “That’s the one. I know that Travis is different. Thank you for treating him as though he is not but respecting it in the times when it is important.” 

“Of course. He was my best friend there,” Awsten replied sincerely. 

She smiled and lightly patted his shoulder. “Thank you. I hope you get back home soon, sugar.” 

“Yeah, me, too.” 

 

* * *

 

Awsten had a thermometer between his lips when he heard footsteps approach his doorway. No one came in, but Awsten was sure - absolutely sure -that someone was outside the door.

Inside, Tyrell was back, not playing Uno this time but instead taking his blood pressure and singing quietly but in a rich voice, “Waaaade in the water, children. Waaaaade in the water. God’s gonna trouble the water.”  
  
Something about it was haunting.

“That song,” Awsten began when Tyrell started it for the third time (it was very short), but the nurse held a finger up.

“Don’t talk, my man. Gimme twenty seconds.”

So Awsten waited. 

The song began again. 

 

 _Wade in the water_  
_Wade in the water, children_  
_Wade in the water_  
_God’s gonna trouble the water_

 

“I don’t know the verses anymore,” he confessed, pulling the thermometer from Awsten’s mouth and glancing at the reading. “My ma would whoop me.” He leaned down to Awsten and, loudly ripping the blood pressure cuff off of his arm, said, “You can talk now. Sorry. The doc thinks it can mess up the numbers.”

“Oh. The song… Why do they say to go in the water if there’s trouble in it?”

Tyrell put the cuff back on his cart and explained, “No, no - God’s gonna trouble the water. He’s gon’ _move._ ”

Awsten tilted his head in confusion.

“There’s this story… let me think. Ah, man, it’s been so long since I’ve been to church. My ma’d whoop me for that, too.” 

Awsten felt uncomfortable, but the nurse was smiling. Maybe he was kidding.

“This blind brother goes down to the pool. It ain’t a swimming pool or anything - like a natural spring or something like that. And all the disabled people were waiting there with this blind dude, and they were waiting for God to go down and heal them, cause sometimes the water would start shaaaaking,” he said, wobbling theatrically, “and whoever got up and ran in the water first was healed.”

“Just one person?” Awsten asked.

“Yep.”

“Even though they all stayed there waiting?”

“Uh-huh.”

Awsten frowned. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

“That’s the story,” Tyrell shrugged. Then he added, “It’s a slave song, though. They say Harriet Tubman used it to warn slaves to get in the water so slave catchers couldn’t follow their trail.” 

The hair on Awsten’s arms stood up. “Shit.” 

Tyrell nodded in agreement. 

There was a heavy silence in the room for a few seconds, and then Tyrell faked a smile and said, “Hey, uh, your fever’s still the same, so doc will want to keep you overnight.” 

“But I feel fine!” Awsten protested.

“I know.” Tyrell shrugged. “Wish I could let you go, man, but I can’t.”

Awsten sighed loudly. “Figures.” 

“Eh, it’s late anyway. Get some good sleep, and maybe in the morning they’ll let you out. Everything else is back to normal.” Then he pointed to the door. “You got yourself a visitor.”

Awsten had forgotten all about the footsteps. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, man. My shift’s about to end.”

“If you bring Uno, I’m not playing with you,” Awsten told him, and he wasn’t kidding.

Tyrell chuckled. “We’ll see about that. I’m gonna smoke your little butt!” 

“Fuck off.” 

“Oooh, he’s feisty!” Tyrell said with a hoot.

Awsten had to stop himself from smiling; he’d forgotten how nice it was to make people laugh. 

“Later!” He wheeled his cart out and murmured a, “Hey, man,” to whoever was standing on the other side of the wall. 

Awsten almost asked, “Did you bring Despereaux back?” but he was soon glad that he didn’t, because it wasn’t Mr. W standing there.

“Otto?” Awsten asked, his voice barely audible. 

Otto stood in the doorway with his eyes on the tile and his arms crossed over his chest. 

For what felt like a full minute, they were silent, Otto staring at the floor and Awsten staring at Otto. The clock was ticking on the wall, and Awsten’s stupid heart monitor was still beeping, but neither of the two boys said a word. 

Should Awsten speak? Should he wait for Otto to say something? Awsten didn’t know. But he just wanted something - anything - to happen. It had almost begun to feel like Otto wasn’t real anymore, like once he’d moved away, he’d just ceased to exist. Seeing him after such a long time was a little bit surreal anyway. But at the same time, it felt like he’d only been gone for a breath.

“Aren’t you gonna yell at me to get out?” Otto finally asked. 

“No,” Awsten whispered. God, hearing his voice…

Otto looked up, and their eyes met, and in an instant, all the tension vanished. 

“I’m sorry,” they both blurted, and then Otto briskly walked forward across the room and grabbed onto Awsten, who gripped him just as tightly. 

“I’m so sorry,” Otto repeated.

“Shut the fuck up; you didn’t do anything wrong,” Awsten told him.

“I did. I did. I’m so sorry, Awsten. I’m sorry-” He was choking up, and Awsten squeezed him harder. “Please don’t hate me.” 

“Hate you?” Awsten repeated. “Otto, I don’t hate you. Fuck, I missed you so bad.”

“I missed you so bad, too,” Otto replied, and the next thing Awsten knew, Otto began silently crying.

Awsten let out a sad sound and pulled him down to sit on the mattress. “Stop it, Otto. Fuck. Stop.” 

“I’m sorry. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have listened to my dad…”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Awsten agreed bitterly. 

Otto wiped at his eyes with his hand in a fist. “I just didn’t want you to get mad, and I thought, you know, things were finally good. You were home again. I didn’t want to mess it up. I thought it could wait.” 

Awsten didn’t say anything. He’d been telling the truth; he didn’t hate Otto. But he was still angry. 

“I’m really sorry I pushed you,” Otto added. “I think about it every day.” 

_I think about it every day, too_ , Awsten wanted to reply, but he refrained. Instead, he apologized. “I’m sorry for what I said about your meds and you being…”

“Crazy,” Otto supplied, looking down and rolling the corner of Awsten’s top sheet between his fingers.

“Yeah. That.” Awsten leaned forward. “I didn’t mean it. Cause you’re not.” 

Otto looked up at him, a sad smile on his face. “You don’t know the half of it. My roommate-”

“No, seriously. You’re not crazy.” 

Otto glanced away again. “Well, you know that I didn’t mean it either,” he murmured, “when I said you only wanted to be my friend to get away from your parents, right?”

“I hoped you didn’t.”

“I thought about it sometimes,” he confessed, “but I never actually believed it. I know you wouldn’t have hung out with me if you didn’t actually want to. Cause you never do anything you don’t want to do.

“Hey!” Awsten frowned.

Otto smiled with one side of his mouth.

“We’re supposed to be _apologizing_ ,” Awsten told him, making a show of sticking his nose up in the air.

“I am!”

They both chuckled.

“So… we’re okay?” Otto asked tentatively. 

“Yeah.” 

Otto nodded, relieved.

“We need each other,” Awsten stated simply. “We’re both still fucked up, but you’re still…” 

There was a brief silence.

“What?” Otto pressed.

Awsten shrugged one shoulder. “I was trying to decide whether to say ‘my best friend’ or ‘my brother.’”

Otto tackled him in a hug. 

 

* * *

 

“David!” Mrs. Wood whispered, rushing into the waiting room with wide eyes. “David, honey, you need to come see this! Geoff, you, too!” 

Mr. Wood and Geoff looked at each other and then stood up to follow Mrs. Wood back through the halls to Awsten’s room. All three of them peeked through the small window in the door.

There, sitting side by side and propped up on Awsten’s pillow, were Awsten and Otto. Awsten was under the covers, talking with his hands and grinning, his paper hospital bracelet slipping up and down his wrist as he spoke. Geoff hadn’t seen him smile like that in days. 

Otto let out a short, bright laugh, so loud that the adults could hear him through the glass. He crossed one yellow Converse shoe over the other and fondly punched Awsten in the arm.  Awsten lightly pushed him back and said something else that had Otto dissolving into laughter. 

“Oh, honey,” Mr. Wood hummed lovingly, and Geoff looked beside him to see Mrs. Wood hiding her face in her hands. 

“My sweet boys,” she said tearfully, but Geoff could tell that she was happy. 

 

* * *

 

“You know I used to turn on the fucking Astros?” Awsten asked forty minutes later with a yawn. “Every day, I’d look for them. I know all the numbers of the sports channels on Mr. W’s TV.”

Otto’s reply was incredulous. “You? Watching sports?” 

“Uh-huh.”

“Weird. Who’s your favorite?”

“Dude,” Awsten said, shooting him a look. “I wasn’t actually, like, paying attention. I’d just put the game or the highlights or whatever on for a second and then turn it off.”

Otto blew out an amused breath. “Well, I watched them all the time, too. Especially the last couple weeks.” 

“Yeah?” 

Otto nodded. “I stopped going to class, so that was kind of the only thing I was doing. Watching baseball and, like. Playing games on my phone and stuff. And sleeping.” 

Awsten gave him a sideways smile. “We’re fucked up, huh?”

Otto nodded again, but he didn’t smile back. “Yeah. My mom wants to pull me out of school.”

“What?” 

He nodded. “Yeah. And I hope she does.” 

“What?” Awsten repeated. “Why?” 

“Well… I don’t really know where to start.”

“From the front.” 

“Okay. Uh. When you left, I got… worse. My therapist said that me having you living in the house again was, um, ‘distracting and comforting’ or something.”

Awsten nodded. Being around Otto again after Peace and Purpose had been the same for him.

“And I started to get better, I guess. Which… I know it probably doesn’t seem true because I was still doing really bad…”

Awsten flashed back to waking up to clamber onto the top bunk one night when Otto had spiraled into a panic attack. Otto wouldn’t let Awsten touch him while he hyperventilated and rocked back and forth, but Awsten had stayed three feet away, talking a little but mostly just sitting and waiting. That had been the second of five or six panic attacks Otto had experienced in the four weeks that Awsten had been home. 

_Home._

Awsten wasn’t so sure that the Woods' house was home anymore.

“…but things were better than they were when you were gone. And then you left, and I guess I started focusing on college and nothing else. I packed, I talked to my parents about it, I Googled it and joined some school Facebook groups... Yeah, I finally made a Facebook,” he said before Awsten could interject. “In the summer semester, it was okay. I was homesick sometimes, but I was busy, and everything was new, and I had a lot of schoolwork, and I was physically tired from workouts and walking to different buildings and all the stuff I was doing. But things slowed down when fall semester started, and I just… I don’t know. I got really bad.” 

Awsten watched him, the half-eaten Three Musketeers bar Otto had bought him from the vending machine forgotten in his hand. 

“I still couldn’t sleep, and like I said, I’d been a little homesick before, but by the middle of September, I was calling my parents crying, like, almost every day. My classes were harder than I was expecting, and I started skipping and accidentally missed a biology exam. So I just gave up. On everything.” 

Awsten was silent.

“My roommate called my mom, actually,” Otto confessed. His gaze fell to his lap. “They all think I don’t know, but that’s the only explanation. He asked to borrow my phone a couple days ago even though he has one. I think he got Mom’s number out of it and then called her later. She and my dad came down and spent last weekend with me. But yeah, Mom wants to pull me out now. Dad wants me to finish this semester and stay home in the spring.” He sighed heavily.

“Did they ask you what _you_ want?” 

Otto shrugged. 

“Well, did they or didn’t they?” Awsten pressed. 

“Yeah…”

“And what do you want?” 

Otto’s response came in a whisper. “I wanna come home.”

“So come home,” Awsten urged warmly, lightly bumping Otto’s shoulder with his own. 

“I can’t. I told them I want to stay.”

“Why? If they’re asking you what you want to do, just tell them the truth.”

“It’s not that simple!” Otto snapped frustratedly. 

“Okay,” Awsten placated. He’d grown used to Otto’s rapid mood changes throughout June, and even though he’d been away from Otto for so long, he remembered exactly how to respond to them. “Why?” he asked, slipping an arm around Otto to gently rub his back the way Mrs. Wood usually did. It always reminded Awsten of Ashton.

Otto sighed again and leaned into him. “Cause I wanna play baseball. I don’t want to be messed up.”

“Okay, so go back in the spring when you feel better.” 

“I’m not _gonna_ feel better.” He sat up. “Don’t you get it, Awsten? I’m stuck like this.” 

“No, you’re not,” Awsten smiled, shaking his head dismissively. 

“Yes, I am! I’m never gonna get better! And Coach B is gonna cut me if I leave!”

Awsten nodded calmly. “Okay. Can I say something?”

“What?”

“I think, um.” He looked up at his best friend. “I think that you getting better is more important than baseball. And college.” 

Otto scoffed. 

“No, listen. If you don’t get help now, you’re gonna fuck yourself up worse. College will still be there next year. Or the year after that.” 

“I don’t wanna be like 27 and still in school.” 

“So fucking what? If you wanna go and it’s important to you, do it. But do it when you’re ready. And anyway, you said it yourself - if you take a break now, you might feel better in the spring.” 

Otto buried his face in his hands. “I hate this. Why can’t I just be normal? My stupid brain broke, and I hate it. I hate myself.”

“Otto,” Awsten frowned. 

“I don’t want to be like this anymore!” He turned to look at Awsten, distress in his eyes. “Don’t you ever feel like that? Don’t you wish that it never even happened?” 

Awsten looked down at the scratchy sheets. “Yeah. Every fucking day.” 

Otto’s arms wrapped around Awsten from the side, and Awsten tipped his head so that it was resting against Otto’s. One of Otto’s chocolate curls tickled his cheek.

“What are we gonna do?” Otto pleaded.

Awsten shrugged and shut his eyes. “We just have to… hang in there. Go to therapy. Talk to people about it when we feel like we can and be nice to ourselves when we feel like we can’t.” It was simple, basic, obvious advice he’d gathered from a cluster of people - Lucas, Mr. W, Zakk, Rian - but advice that had actually helped. Not wanting to sound cheesy, he finished with, “I don’t know.” 

“Thanks for understanding,” Otto muttered. “My parents don’t.”

“They’re trying,” Awsten told him. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but they really are. They love you, okay?” 

Otto retracted his arms and crossed them, and Awsten fought the urge to roll his eyes in response. Otto had the most important thing in the world: a family. And he used to know it, but it seemed that in the confusion and chaos of losing himself, Otto had forgotten.

“What do you wanna do when you grow up, anyway?” Awsten asked, half trying to distract him, half genuinely curious. “You still want to be a cop? Lock up all the bad guys?” 

“Yeah, actually,” Otto replied softly. “I enrolled as a criminal justice major. I wanna work for a sheriff’s department.” 

Awsten laughed fondly. 

“What?”

“Honestly?”

Otto nodded.

“I just love you a lot, that’s all.” 

“Shut up,” Otto grumbled, dropping his head onto Awsten’s shoulder. “Missed you.”

“I missed you, too, dude.” Several seconds passed in silence, and then Awsten couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Deputy Wood,” he muttered. He burst out laughing.

“Have I mentioned that I hate you?” Otto replied, but he was smiling.

 

* * *

 

After the long day filled with doctors, nurses, vital checks, visitors, and a few healing hours with Otto, Awsten had declared that everyone should go home to rest. Geoff had mixed feelings about it; on the one hand, he’d wanted to spend some more time with Awsten and had expected to stay in his room overnight again. But on the other, he had been growing more than a bit stir-crazy in the building, and he wanted to get back to Tuna (and some normalcy). His shower and bed wouldn't be so awful, either.

There was a small line to say goodbye to Awsten. Mr. and Mrs. Wood were up front, each taking a turn to hug him. Mary gave him three kisses as well, and she kept holding his face in her hands and telling him that she loved him. When they departed, Otto stepped up. 

The skinny teenager hugged him tightly and promised that they’d spend more time together as soon as Otto was available, either the next day or the next weekend depending on whether or not Otto went back to school that night. Geoff watched as he leaned down and kissed Awsten right on his face. 

Awsten laughed, but he didn’t pull away. “Yeah, yeah, I love you, dork,” he said when Otto didn’t let go.

“I love you, too.” 

Finally, it was Geoff’s turn. “I have a few books for you,” he said. 

“Thanks, but I think I’m just gonna sleep. It’s getting late, and they want me to, you know. Rest or whatever.” 

Geoff nodded. “Yes. But I’d like you to have them just in case.”

“Which ones?” Awsten asked, and the way he peered interestedly at the small stack under Geoff’s arm made Geoff feel warm. 

“The ones I read to you while you were sleeping. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime and Life of Pi. I am happy to leave Despereaux with you as well if you like, although I hoped we would finish that one together.”

“Yeah, you can take that one home.” 

“Home,” Geoff echoed softly. “Tomorrow, if you are cleared to leave… will you-?”  


“I wanna come with you,” Awsten interrupted with a hint of desperation in his voice. “Please. If - if that’s okay.” 

Geoff nodded, suddenly feeling the urge to embrace him. “Yes, that would be nice.” 

Awsten’s lips morphed into a crooked smile, and Geoff set the books on the bedside table next to the full cup of water. 

“Can you stay?” Awsten pleaded. “Just for a minute.” 

“Yes.” Geoff sat down in the chair, and it suddenly felt like the familiar nights when they were settled across from each other at the dinner table.

“So,” Awsten began, “are you going to school tomorrow?”

“I was going to, yes. In the morning, at least."

"Good. Your kids probably miss you."

Geoff smiled. "Everything here moves so slowly that I expect that you will not be released until sometime near noon. I was planning to take my leave at lunch to come and retrieve you.”

“Retrieve me,” Awsten repeated, smiling again. 

Something about his facial expression made Geoff’s heart leap into his throat. “I,” Geoff said forcefully, and then he paused to reel in his emotions. “I nearly lost you,” he stated a second or two later. “I am aware that I influenced your decision to leave, and I am truly sorry.” 

“It’s okay.”

“No, it is not ‘okay,’ Awsten.”

“It is. Look, we talked about this already, and-”

“You are family to me, and I cannot lose you. I will not. This cannot happen again, this running away business. Do you understand? If you wish to leave, you must tell me beforehand.”

Awsten watched him with big eyes. 

“I will not be subject to worry like this for a third time.” 

Hesitantly, Awsten asked, “You were worried about me?”

Geoff sighed quietly. “Yes, Awsten, I was terrified.” 

Awsten nodded, letting his brain process the information. Then he said, “Everyone keeps saying you went looking for me in the woods. That you were the one who found me.”

“Yes, that is correct.” 

Awsten nodded again and lifted his fingers to his mouth. He began to absently chew on his thumbnail. 

Geoff waited patiently; Awsten had that concentrating expression on his face again.

After another moment, Awsten stated, “I would have done the same thing for you.” 

“I appreciate that,” Geoff responded quietly. “It was not a pleasant experience.”

“I’m sorry,” Awsten whispered, shrinking a bit. 

“I am sorry, too.” 

Awsten’s eyes met his. 

“I rode in the ambulance with you, and on the way to the hospital, I was so flustered that I was unable to recall poetry that I have had memorized since I was twelve years old.”  Geoff didn’t want to say these things, didn't want to confess that he'd been so afraid, but everything he had read since March had told him, over and over, that it was important for children to see the adults in their lives vulnerable at times. Otherwise, they would have no reason to trust or open up to them.  “I was quite angry with you. And I am not sure that I have ever been so thoroughly frightened in my life. Not since the lockdown. Awsten, your skin was like ice.” Geoff combed his fingers through his own hair. “Do you recall it?” 

“What?” 

“Anything. The cold, or perhaps the pain. The nurses told me that you were in a great deal of pain.” 

Slowly, Awsten nodded. “Yeah, I remember. Both.” 

Geoff closed his eyes. 

“But it doesn’t have shit on… school.”

Geoff opened his eyes again.

“I can’t even say his name anymore,” Awsten whispered. His gaze was unfocused on the wall across the room. 

The familiar anxiety Geoff always had whenever one of his students started to speak with him about the lockdown crept into his chest and settled there.

“He put the gun in his mouth, and it clicked between his teeth. And I reached out to pull it away, but before I could, he fired it straight through his fucking head. My hand was still on it.” Awsten looked at Geoff, wide-eyed. “It happened so fast, Mr. W. If - if you hadn’t been in the courtyard, I don’t know what I would’ve done.” 

Geoff nodded slowly. 

“And if you hadn’t let me come in for dinner when I first came or talked to me at the lake after the piano or found me in the woods the other night, I would be dead, and I never would have gotten to say I was sorry. Cause I was. As soon as I got scared, I just wanted to say I was sorry and come home.” 

“Awsten,” Geoff said softly. 

“I just wanted to say sorry. So I’m sorry.” 

“I know that you are. You and I both are. But we have forgiven each other, and there is no need for us to discuss the matter any further if you do not desire to.” 

“I don’t.” 

“Neither do I, frankly.” 

Awsten nodded. He was quiet again, and then he stated, “You should go home.”

“Are you sure that you will be alright here by yourself?” 

“I’m not by myself. I’ve got all Tyrell here to drive me nuts.”

Geoff smiled. “Very well.” He stood. “Shall I turn the light off for you?”

“No, not yet. I still have to brush my teeth and stuff.” 

He nodded. “Goodnight, Awsten. I will see you tomorrow afternoon.” 

“Kay.” 

“If you need me, please tell one of the staff. They are aware of how to reach me.” He paused. “Shall I leave my number for you?” 

“No, I, um.” Awsten looked down at the sheets, blush rising in his cheeks. “I know it. I learned it just in case.” 

“Oh, I see. That is quite good.” 

Awsten nodded.

“Alright. I will be off, then.” 

“Kay. Um, love you.” 

Geoff responded with a little smile and began to go.

“Wait,” Awsten pleaded. 

The teacher paused in the doorway. 

“Can I have a hug? Just - since you’re… leaving.”

“Yes.” Geoff started back over to him. As he walked, he noticed Awsten’s eyes trained on his jaw (which had been growing progressively more sore). He bent down and slipped an arm around Awsten, who embraced him and leaned against his chest for a few seconds. 

“You have to keep putting ice on your bruise when you get home or it’ll be worse,” Awsten instructed as he pulled back. “I know it's easier when the nurses bring it to you all the time, but just try to remember. Oh - fuck, I forgot to tell you how to hide it.”

“That’s quite alright. I will manage.”

“No - you think people won’t stare at you, but they will. And all the kids will ask.”

Geoff could tell that Awsten was being protective and trying to help, so he didn’t dismiss his words. 

“You have to go out to the general store. Zack works there now, and he won’t tell anybody about it if he’s the one at the register. On the wall all the way to the left if you’re looking into the store from the front doors, there’s a bunch of makeup. They have this stuff called concealer. That’s what you want. The kind that works best is always on one of the bottom shelves, and it comes in this little clear bottle with a gray top. It’s like this big-” He held his fingers three or four inches apart - “and it costs like four dollars. Just try to guess what color you need, but don’t look at the names. They’ll only confuse you.”

Geoff nodded as he listened.

“And you’ll need cotton balls to put it on with. That’s what I use, at least. You can use your fingers if you have to, but the cotton balls make it look better. If you bring it by in the morning, I’ll help you.”

Geoff gave him a gentle smile. “Thank you, Awsten.” 

He nodded. “I’ve done it a million times, so just come here and wake me up.” 

“Thank you,” Geoff repeated. 

“Night,” Awsten said, waving.

“Goodnight.” And with that, he slipped out the door.

 

* * *

 

Awsten had just finished getting ready for bed when a nurse came over with an annoyed look on her face. “Awsten?” she asked.

“Hm?” he asked, looking up from Life of Pi, which he was thumbing through. 

“You’ve got another visitor.” 

Awsten was puzzled. It was nearly 10 PM. “No, I told everybody to go home.”

“Well, you have a visitor anyway. His name is Jon, but he said to tell you that he’s the adult Jon, not the teenage Jon.”

“Jon from church?”

“I don’t know. The adult Jon. That’s all he told me. He has brown hair, and he sounds like he’s from New York.” 

“Okay.”

“‘Okay’ you’ll see him?”

Awsten nodded.

She sighed. “Alright. But don’t think this means you’re staying up all night, because you’re not.” 

“I know.” 

“Good. Let me go get him.” She disappeared, and a moment later, Jon was walking through the door, that same maroon baseball cap secure on his head. 

“Hey!” he said excitedly, going over to give Awsten a much gentler hug than usual. 

“Hey.” Awsten hugged him back. He always forgot how much like the human embodiment of a sparkler Jon was until he saw him again.

“Sorry it’s so late, man. Tuesdays are always busy. Getting ready for bible study, you know?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You weren’t going to bed yet, were you?”

“No, not yet.” Awsten had only planned to stay up for another fifteen minutes or so - he was tired, okay? - but he wasn’t about to tell Jon that. 

“Oh, good. Okay, cool. Cool. Hey, I heard you’re probably going home tomorrow.” 

Awsten nodded, a smile gracing his features.

“Aw, good. That’s great, man. You must be looking forward to it.”

“Uh-huh.” 

There was a beat of awkward silence, and then Jon said, “Lucas called me on Sunday, and me and Big T came and met him out here.” 

Awsten nodded. “Yeah, I heard. Thank you.”

“We prayed over you.”

“What?” Awsten asked a little loudly. 

“Yeah. All of us and some people from the waiting room.”

“ _What?_ ”

Jon chuckled as Awsten covered his reddening face. “We had probably ten or twelve people crammed in here. Some of them have known you since you were itty bitty, and some of them you’ve never even met, but they cared. And I gotta be honest - I think the reason you were out in the woods in the first place was because you think that no one does. So I want you to know you’re loved.” He reached out and lightly squeezed Awsten’s shoulder. “You know that?” 

“Yeah.” 

Jon nodded. “That’s all I’m gonna say about that, cause I can tell that you don’t wanna hear it. So let’s just chat for a few minutes, okay? Just… let’s just talk.” 

“About what?”

“I don’t know. Whatever you want.” 

“Well, I think I kind of believe in God now,” Awsten said candidly. 

Jon smiled. “Yeah?” 

“I’m not sure,” Awsten hurried to add. “But I kind of think so. It almost, like.” He frowned. “I guess it depends on my mood or the shit that’s going on around me.”

“That’s okay. That’s actually a pretty normal place to start.”

Awsten looked at him in confusion.

“Most people start out thinking that their relationship with God is transactional. That’s why I push so hard on the fact that it isn’t.”

Then came the urge for Awsten to blurt something out. “I prayed,” he said desperately. “One of the last things I remember was that I prayed.” He looked down. “I haven’t prayed in a long time. Like, since I was a little kid.” 

“What did you pray for?” 

“For someone to find me eventually,” Awsten answered, his voice small. “And that whoever did wouldn’t be mad.” 

“And what happened?” Jon asked him.

“Both.” 

Jon smiled. 

“What?” Awsten demanded. “You said he wasn’t a genie, so why are you so happy?” 

“Well, sometimes our prayers do get answered. And those were some pretty important ones. God used Geoff to save your life.” 

“Mr. W,” Awsten corrected. He thought about telling Jon about the calm, safe feeling he'd had while he'd been asleep, but it felt too private. Instead, he asked, “Do you ever want something? Like, something that isn’t yours?”

Jon opened his mouth to respond, but Awsten wasn’t done.

“It’s not even a bad thing. It just isn’t, um…” He trailed off and looked back down at the tile floor on the opposite side of his bed. “It isn’t something I should want. Cause I already have the thing. There’s just… a better thing, and it’s right in front of me.”

“Maybe God put it there for you.” 

Startled, Awsten met his eyes.

“Look, I don’t know all that much about philosophy or anything, but what I do know is that Occam’s Razor is pretty legit.”

“What?” Awsten asked again. 

“Occam’s Razor. It’s this philosophy thing, I guess. ‘The simplest explanation is true.’ If God drops something in front of you - and it’s not sin - maybe it’s yours to have. Or at least yours to try to have.”

Awsten swallowed. “It showed up right when I needed it. Like more than I ever needed it before. And it’s the best thing ever.”

Jon looked at him curiously. 

Almost pleadingly, Awsten asked, “How do I know if it’s mine?” 

“Well,” Jon began carefully. Then he paused and commented, almost to himself, “This would be a lot easier if I knew what we were talking about here.” Back to Awsten, he said, “So long as you’re not sinning, I would say take it and see what happens.” 

“Just take it,” Awsten repeated flatly.

Jon shrugged. “What is it?” 

Awsten shook his head.

“Then that’s the best advice I can give you, dude. That’s all I got.” He hesitated. “Unless… You could ask for a sign.”

“A sign? Like in the movies?” 

“Yeah, just like that. But maybe not so dramatic. You could just ask for God to give you some signal. I know some people like to be really specific, though, like…” He glanced up at the ceiling and paused for a second or two to come up with something. “Show me a bright pink flamingo today, and I’ll know.”

Awsten’s stomach dropped.

“Maybe not so specific, but - what’s wrong?”

“Did someone tell you about that?” Awsten asked gravely.

“What?” 

But then the words Travis had spoken were echoing in his head. _There was a pinker lion, but God told me it was important to pick you out this one._ Awsten hadn’t thought anything of the sentence, not at all, but now -

“Who told you that?” he demanded, turning almost aggressive. “How do you know about the flamingo?”

Jon put his hands up. “No one told me anything about a flamingo. What are you talking about dude?”

“Fuck!”

Jon stared at him in confusion. 

“ _I have a flamingo._ Right here in this room.” Awsten pointed to the extra chair that was covered in rejected blankets from the night before. The nurses and the Woods kept moving them back and forth between the counter and the chair, but right then, they were settled on the chair again, swallowing both of Awsten's stuffed animals up entirely. “Go see.”

Jon did. He lifted the blankets and let out a surprised laugh. “Well, what do you know?” Shaking his head in disbelief (or perhaps just plain belief), he said weakly, “Well, if that’s not your sign, I don’t know what the heck to tell you.”

 

* * *

 

** November 5 **

When Awsten blinked slowly awake, everything was quiet. He stared at the blank, white wall for a few seconds before silently yawning and then turning over onto his back so he could stare up at the ceiling. A shape in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he looked over to see Mr. W in the plastic chair beside the bed.

The teacher had clearly washed his hair and was clad in dress clothes, and his jacket was resting on his back as if someone had draped it over him. His head was pillowed on his elbow, which was lying on the very edge of Awsten’s mattress. Despite the fact that his bangs were covering his eyes, it was obvious that he was asleep. He appeared as calm as ever. 

Just seeing him like that had Awsten’s eyes falling shut again. Blindly, he reached out with a tape-covered hand until he found Mr. W’s arm. He closed his fingers around Mr. W’s elbow, the word _Dad_ quietly echoing around in his head. 

He dreamt of the Rainbow Bridge, but this time, Otto was standing on one side of him, and Mr. W was standing on the other. 

 

* * *

 

_November 5, 2014_

_What a dreadful few days have passed since I sat here last. It is astounding to me now that my last entry details excitement over homemade pasta and moaning about needing to make a trip to Henderson for a new prop for Macbeth. Those things seem so trivial compared to what has transpired._

_I suppose I shall start at the beginning. (I can almost hear Awsten’s voice in my mind affirming, “a very good place to start,” as he often does.)_

_On Sunday night, I returned home from Peace and Purpose to find that Awsten and all of his belongings had vanished. He was not at the lake, in the back yard, or anywhere on my property. I promptly made a call to the police and filed a missing person report. Thankfully, the sheriff’s department was willing to lend immediate aid to the search. I located Awsten on my own, but it would have been entirely impossible for me to have brought him back safely whether or not he had been in such a state. I had wound so deep into the woods that I cannot say where I would have appeared had I attempted to re-emerge at home._

_Awsten’s skin was freezing to the touch, his lips and fingers blue. The air was unforgivingly cold, and he had been outside in the harsh weather for hours during a rainstorm, but he had removed his thin windbreaker, which was the only thing protecting him. I can still see his face in my mind. His eyes were closed, but he did not look like he was sleeping. He looked as though he were dead._

_I am still not sure how I was able to find him. Over and over, my thoughts return to that mystery. The odds were not at all in my favor, and yet I located him, and the rescue team located me. And most importantly, Awsten is, by the sheer grace of God, alive._

_I will skip the slow parts, which make up, quite frankly, most of the parts immediately following Awsten’s journey to the hospital. I did not return home once in that time, which spanned two full days and half of a third. I have eaten, slept, and survived in that hospital. And despite the fact that last night, Awsten ordered all of us off the premises in the hopes that we would go home to sleep, I found myself driving back to the hospital and slipping into his room. He was sound asleep, still attached to an IV and a heart monitor and afflicted with fever, but it was as though my heart finally exhaled once I saw that he was alright._

_I woke this morning to my phone alarm, which I am thankful that I had the foresight to set just in case. (Normally, I do not require a wake-up call, but things have been different this week.) Awsten was already awake, lying still and staring at me - not in a way that made me believe that it was the noise that had woken him but more in a way that pointed to his having been conscious for a while. I almost think that he had been willing me awake. He had this minuscule smile on his face when I awoke like he was happy to see me. That was nice._

_I dressed for the day before I arrived, and I’d gone to the hospital gift shop overnight to locate a small bottle of concealer. I was confident that it wasn’t the type Awsten had instructed me to get, but it just so happened that it was. Awsten was pleasantly surprised and asked when I’d had time to go to the general store. Of course, in his usual manner, he had moved on to his next thought before I could even begin to provide an answer. I did not mind._

_(I should likely mention that I required the concealer because Awsten’s father decided that it would be beneficial to punch me in the jaw yesterday morning in front of Mr. Wood and a security guard. He was angry that I was “hiding” Awsten from him, which I was not at first but perhaps am now. Although he was sure to tell me that he knows where I live, so unless we were to move away, which there is absolutely no plan to do, my home will not be much of a hiding place.)_

_So there we sat as the sky began to turn from black to blue outside the window. Awsten worked quietly with a thermometer poking out of his mouth, using a cotton ball he’d obtained from the redheaded nurse, Rose, who had taken pity on me, it seems. The room was silent since the staff had disconnected the heart monitor, I did not want to speak in case I ‘messed up’ the makeup, and Awsten is quiet when he concentrates._

_I can still feel the ghost of his fingertips on my jaw (he abandoned the cotton ball toward the end), gently smearing and patting. “You look like a blueberry pancake,” he’d frowned when he started, and he wasn’t being funny. The sadness in his voice made my heart ache; he did not explicitly state it, but I understood that he was blaming himself. It was, perhaps, the first time that I have loathed having learned how to read him so easily._

_I watched his face as he worked the same way I had watched his face during the afternoon before. He had been walking back and forth to the restroom during his time in the ICU, though always with assistance from the nurses and only for a few feet, but his doctor wanted to make sure that everything was alright with his bloodflow, so he instructed Awsten to walk the halls for an extended time. With myself on his left and Otto on his right, we set off._

_He fatigued easily. It was, in all honesty, a bit alarming. We all knew that he was tired, both physically and mentally, but I do believe that neither Otto nor I were prepared for Awsten to experience such difficulty during such a short journey. He had one arm wrapped behind my back and the other draped over Otto’s shoulders, and he was clutching both of us so tightly and leaning so much weight onto Otto that it was as though he had been injured in battle._

_We found a chair partway down the hall, and he dropped into it, looking exhausted. Then came the explanation: “I’m super dizzy.” I still have the words frozen in my head. I can hear exactly the way he dragged the U out in ‘super’ despite his slightly ashamed tone._

_A nurse came down to see what was going on. He called the doctor over and, of course, velcro-ed a blood pressure cuff onto Awsten’s arm and slipped yet another thermometer into his mouth - Awsten looked at me and rolled his eyes - before requesting a wheelchair for him to ride back to his room in. The dizziness was declared to be due to Awsten’s fever, which had begun climbing. Awsten was prescribed a round of antibiotics right there on the chair._

_The hallway cleared, and Otto began running as he pushed Awsten in the wheelchair. I did not stop him. There was no one they could have harmed, and Otto merely wanted Awsten to laugh. His plan worked._

_It is nice to see them together again, making each other smile and just acting like the teenagers they are. I know that the Woods understand this far better than I since they know what had been missing, but I see it as well. It is clear now more than ever that they have missed each other terribly. Awsten’s eyes contain so much more light when Otto is around._

_For now, Awsten is in his bedroom upstairs attempting to, in his doctor’s words, “sleep the fever off.”_

_Tuna is awfully cross with both of us for leaving her alone for so long; if either of us enters a room she is in, she meows angrily (I assume so that we cannot possibly overlook her presence) and then struts away. Awsten attempted to chase after her to catch her and apologize, but she was too quick and he too ill. He sat down in the center of the kitchen with his eyes closed and his hand pressed to his forehead while he waited for the world to stop spinning. We will just have to hope that Tuna comes around soon. I am sure that she will._

_I will be returning to school tomorrow for the full day, and I am glad. I received quite the warm welcome this morning from my students, especially my seniors. I did not realize that I would be missed at all, let alone so much that there would be a WELCOME BACK MR. W! sign hanging on my wall by the end of third period. I was only absent for two days!_

 

* * *

**November 27**

The delicious smells of cinnamon apples and roasted turkey mixed together in the air as a blonde lady in a blue Western shirt belted the national anthem on the television.

“She’s kinda pretty,” Awsten commented to Mr. Wood, who had taken up his usual spot on the couch. 

“That’s Lee-Ann Womack,” Mr. Wood told him with a nod. 

“Is she in Sugarland?”

“No, she performs by herself.” 

“She sings ‘I Hope You Dance,’ baby,” Mom added from the other room.

“Oh, okay.”

“I always enjoyed that song,” Mr. W hummed, setting a large baking dish down on the counter. His hands were covered in Mrs. Wood’s giant oven mitts, which looked ridiculous on him.

Awsten turned to Otto. “I hope youuuu daaance!” he sang in an exaggerated southern accent.

Otto whacked at him, and Awsten whacked back.

“Mom, how much longer til dinner?” Otto called, still trying to fend Awsten off.

“As soon as the turkey comes out, you can come to the table.”

“How long is that?” Awsten asked.

Just then, the oven beeped, and both Otto and Awsten scrambled for the dining room. 

Soon, everyone was gathered around the table. Mom went around behind all the chairs giving a kiss atop the head to each of her guests and thanked both Geoff and Awsten for helping with the cooking (even though Awsten did far less than the adults). 

Although Awsten was staring at the food (particularly Mr. W’s homemade mashed potatoes, which he never seemed to tire of) he knew it would be a bit before they were allowed to eat. The steaming meat and vegetables - and even those heavenly potatoes - would have to wait.  
  
“What is everyone thankful for this year?” Mrs. Wood asked, looking around the table with a smile. “Geoff? Would you like to start, honey?”

“Oh,” Mr. W said in surprise. “Yes, I suppose. Thank you. I am thankful for my work at school and for an invitation to dinner tonight. I have not had a proper Thanksgiving in more than ten years, so this is quite special to me. And it goes without saying that I am immensely thankful for each one of you. You have made my life a much warmer place.” He turned to Mary first and then Awsten. “Especially you two.” Then, just to Awsten, “You most of all.” 

Awsten smiled but looked down at the cream cloth napkin on his lap. When he looked back up, Mom was smiling between them.

“Otto?” Mr. Wood prompted. 

“I’m thankful for being able to be back home,” he stated immediately. “And for the sleep clinic."

There was a collective nod from the group.

"And I’m thankful Awsten took off work to help us pack the dorm up, cause it would have taken way longer without him. And I’m thankful Mr. W is here, cause Awsten keeps saying his mashed potatoes are great.” 

“They _are_!” Awsten insisted. 

“Also, he’s just cool, so.” 

Mr. W smiled, looking a little embarrassed but mostly happy. 

“And Mom and Dad, I’m thankful for you guys for helping me and listening to me and making sure I take my medicine and forgiving me when I get mad, and just… You’re the best parents ever. I love you.” 

Mom’s eyes filled with tears. 

“Aww,” Awsten smiled. 

“And _you_ ,” Otto said accusingly, turning to him. No more words came, though. Otto just grabbed him around the shoulders and yanked him into a hug. 

Awsten laughed. 

“David, baby?” 

“Uh, I’m thankful for everybody here. Thankful Otto and Awsten are both doing better.”

The boys nodded.

He turned to his wife. “I’m thankful for you every damn day.”

She blushed and giggled. “David!  


“I love you, honey.”

“Gross!” Otto heckled, and Awsten made a face. 

Just to bother them more, Mr. Wood leaned forward and pressed a little smooch to Mom’s lips.

“AHH!” Otto yelled, and he and Awsten both hid their eyes, laughing brightly. 

“Your turn,” Mr. Wood told her. 

“Oh, goodness, I’m thankful for all of you. My little family,” she said, her hand fluttering over her heart. “There is nothing in the world I would rather have than such a wonderful group of people to love. I wish David’s parents had been here tonight, but I know they’re happy and taken care of.”

Mr. Wood nodded in affirmation.

“Other than that, today has been perfect. Absolutely perfect. Geoff, I loved cooking with you today, honey. You have the gentlest heart. Awsten, baby, I’m so glad you’re home safe. Otto, I’m glad you’re home safe, too, sweetheart. The house has been so empty without my favorite boys. And David, I love you with all my heart.” She squeezed her husband’s hand. “Thank you, each of you, for being so wonderful.” 

Awsten wanted to get up to embrace her, but he refrained. He’d give her a big hug after dinner. 

“Awsten, you’re up,” Mr. Wood noted. 

Awsten nodded. “Um, I know everybody keeps saying it, but I love you guys so much. I’m thankful that all of you gave me a home even after I… you know. And I’m thankful that you all forgave me. And that you’re all my family. Otto, you’re the best brother ever, and I’m so glad we’re friends again. Mom…” He shook his head; she already knew everything he could have possibly said. Then, with a small burst of courage, he looked at Mr. W. “And you’re a great dad.” 

Surprise crossed Mr. W’s face, but his features settled into a soft smile. 

With another little surge of bravery, he asked, “Is it cool if I pray? I know you usually do, Mom, but I just thought that today…?”

“Of course, honey,” she said, her voice hardly above a whisper. Awsten could tell she was trying not to cry again. 

“Okay.” They usually just bowed their heads, but Awsten said a bit nervously, “At Peace and Purpose, we held hands.”  
  
Everyone understood and lifted their hands until the table was joined like a small circle.

“Um, hi, God,” Awsten said quietly. “I wanna say thank you for everybody here, and thank you for all the food Mom and - Mom and Mr. W made. Um, it smells really good, and I can’t wait to eat it.” Awsten peeked up, but everyone’s eyes were still closed. He closed his again as well. “Listen, I just wanna say thanks for bringing me back alive. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss this.” He cleared his throat. “So yeah. Bless this food and the people at this table. Amen.”

The response was soft but strong. 

“Amen.” 


	10. December

** December 1 **

“That is highly inappropriate behavior,” Mr. W frowned.

“Right? And then Mrs. Chang came in to get her paperwork or whatever since it’s the first of the month, and I tried to tell her what he was doing - I said it right in fucking front of him. I’m so done. Like, I don’t even care if he gets mad at me. He’s so fucking annoying. So I tell her, right, and she just shakes her head and walks out! She didn’t say anything or do anything. She just _left_!” 

Awsten’s phone started to vibrate, so he slid it a few inches out of his pocket and glanced down at it. Otto’s name was displayed on the little square screen along with a dancing receiver icon. Intending to call back after dinner, Awsten pressed the volume down button twice to decline the call, took a big bite of stew, and then resumed speaking.

“I would have fired him for that,” he huffed. “It’s disgusting. And half the time, he never even shows up! And when he does, he either just stares at his phone or sucks at everything!”

Mr. W nodded sympathetically.

“Anyway,” Awsten said, blowing out a breath, “so the girls are gone, Mrs. Chang is gone, and I’m alone with him again at that point, and he’s pissed at me for telling on him, and I’m like, ‘Jake! You can’t just take Sadie Mae Maxwell into the back room! Especially while her friends are here! And you’re supposed to be working!’” Awsten shook his head. “You know Sadie Mae's still seventeen, right?” 

Mr. W looked alarmed. 

“Yeah. And Jake’s, like, twenty now. So _that_ ’s fucked up.” Awsten’s phone started buzzing again. He ignored it. “Plus, you know, people eat there. It’s got to be breaking, like, twenty laws.”

“Should you be answering that?” Mr. W asked, nodding toward the vibrating sound. 

“Nah, it’s just Otto. I’ll get him in a minute.”

“I have always been under the impression,” Mr. W told him politely, “that if someone calls twice, there is an important matter that needs to be addressed.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He’d only been waiting all day to tell Mr. W what had happened at work, but he reached into his pocket and flipped the phone open. “Hey. What’s up? I’m eating.”

“Did you j-just hit ignore?” Otto sobbed. 

Awsten’s eyes went wide. “Otto, whoa, hey. I’m sorry.”

“I n-need to talk to y-you.” 

Hearing Otto crying like that increased his heart rate considerably, but he tried not to let it show in his voice or on his face. “Okay, dude. I’m listening. What’s wrong?” 

“I - my - my parents are…” He had to stop speaking for several moments so he could calm down enough to get the words out. “I just really need you right now.” 

“Okay. Do you want me to come over?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Awsten looked questioningly at Mr. W. They were in the middle of dinner, after all. But Mr. W nodded to confirm that it was alright with him. 

“No, I don’t wanna... be here, um. Can I, like. Can I come over?”

Awsten covered the receiver and quickly mouthed, _Can he come over?_

Mr. W nodded again, and Awsten smiled gratefully. 

“Yeah, of course.”

“Okay. Um, wh-where is it again? By the lake, right? On the fancy street?” 

“Why don’t I just come get you?” Trying to lighten the mood, he added, “I’ll put on some roller skates and be right over, okay?” 

“Awsten,” Mr. W whispered, “would you like to take the Lexus?” 

Awsten raised his eyebrows.

“How long will it take you to get here?” Otto asked pleadingly. “Can I start walking, and you can find me? My parents and I got into a huge fight, and I don’t - I, like, _really_ don’t want to stay here.” 

Those were words Awsten had spoken a hundred times before, and hearing them come from Otto’s mouth made Awsten ache. He nodded at Mr. W and said into the phone, “Mr. W said I can borrow his car. I’ll be there in like, four or five minutes, okay?” 

Otto sniffled. “Okay.” 

Mr. W stood and walked away to get the keys.

“ _Hey,_ ” Awsten said quietly, cupping his hand around the mouthpiece, “tell me the truth - did they hurt you?” 

“What? No, no,” he rushed out. 

“Okay,” Awsten responded. Still, he advised, “Just stay quiet. I’ll be there soon.” 

“Kay. Thanks. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Bye.”

“Bye.” 

Awsten closed the phone and stood as Mr. W approached him with the keys. 

“You do have a driver’s license?” Mr. W asked hesitantly.

“Yeah. You saw it, remember? When we were filling out the tax stuff for work.”

“I do recall that.” Mr. W handed him the bulky car key, which had a copy of the house key attached. "Please be safe."

“I will. Thanks.” He glanced down at his half-eaten dinner and then headed for the garage. 

Mr. W had turned back to the table, so Awsten silently swiped Tuna from her spot in front of the heater and tucked her beneath his elbow. He slipped out of the house, unlocked the shiny, black car, and climbed in. He deposited Tuna in the passenger seat. She whined and tried to climb into his lap, but he gently pushed her back. “I have to focus,” he told her. “You need to be quiet.”

With a short meow of frustration, she sat down, and Awsten smiled apologetically at her. 

He hadn’t been behind the driver’s seat of a car in nearly a year (there had just been no reason for him to drive since everything in Lakeview was so close together), but he was pleasantly surprised by how easily the necessary skills returned to him. Maybe driving was kind of like riding a bike. Except much faster and a lot less sweaty.

As he remembered from his learner’s permit days, backing out of the garage and down the driveway was the freakiest part. After that, things got a lot easier, and, true to his word, Awsten was parked in the street in front of Otto’s front door a handful of minutes later. 

Otto came rushing out, but Mom stayed in the doorway looking worried.

“Honey!” she called to Awsten. “He’s not in any trouble! I promise!” 

Awsten chose loyalty to his friend in that moment and didn’t respond to his mother. He put Tuna on his knee so that she wouldn’t run off to explore and unlocked the doors just in time for Otto to slide into the passenger seat and say quietly, “Let’s go.”

He didn’t have anything with him - no bag, no sneakers, no backpack - but Awsten knew the tunnel vision he got when he needed to escape, so he didn’t question it. He just said, “Okay,” and started driving. 

Otto was silent the whole way back to Mr. W’s house, not even to comment on the gray cat who was rubbing against Awsten’s chest and purring. Awsten glanced over at his best friend a few times, but he just kept staring straight out through the windshield with red eyes. When they pulled up to the driveway, Otto did utter a small, “Whoa,” at the enormous home, but that was it. 

Awsten happened to press the correct garage door opener on the first try. He drove carefully into the garage and eased the vehicle to a stop.

“Is this, like… your car?” Otto asked him. It was as if the idea had just occurred to him.

“No. It’s Mr. W’s, but he let me borrow it. It’s definitely not mine; I haven’t driven at all since we took your dad’s pickup to Houston for that Dunkin' Donuts thing.”

Buy-one-get-one-free heart-shaped donuts the day after Valentine’s Day. The gas money cost more than the free donut would have, but Mr. and Mrs. Wood let them go that Saturday morning anyway. They went into the store separately, first Awsten and then Otto, and got a total of six pink donuts, which they devoured right there in the parking lot listening to Ke$ha. The radio signal had been crystal clear - nothing like it was in Lakeview.

“Oh. Is Mr. W gonna, like…?”

“He’ll stay away,” Awsten responded, fairly confident in his answer. “He knows you’re coming, but he won’t bother us.”

Otto nodded.

“Unless you want him to?” 

“No,” Otto replied firmly.

“Okay. Then we can just go to my room.” He reached up to press the button to close the garage door, and once it was in place, he set Tuna down on the concrete. 

Otto swiped at his nose with his forearm and opened the car door. “That’s so weird, you know. You saying I can come up to your room.”

“I’m glad I can finally say it at all,” Awsten shrugged. He got out, too, and lead the way into the house. 

“Yeah. I kinda thought it would never happen.” 

The kitchen still smelled like delicious beef stew, but all of the bowls, cups, silverware, knives, cutting boards, and food had vanished. There was no way Mr. W would have had time to wash all the dishes and put everything away, or even time to have loaded it all into the dishwasher. Had he hurriedly hidden everything in his bedroom? Awsten wanted to laugh, but Otto still looked awful, so he refrained. He pointed up the stairs instead. “Um, my room’s this way.” 

“This house is huge,” Otto whispered.

“I know. It’s four stories, too.” 

Otto blinked in surprise.

“Wait til you see the backyard,” Awsten told him, starting up the steps. His best friend followed. “I’ll take you to the sunflower room first thing tomorrow so you can see it from above. It’s kind of awesome. The forest is massive. And Mr. W has a vegetable patch, and there’s a flower garden, too. And the whole giant yard has all these sunflowers around it. Most of them are dead right now, but in the summer, it’s really cool.” 

Otto suddenly looked very upset again. 

“What?” 

He started to cry a little bit. “I missed you in the summer.” 

“I know,” Awsten said quietly, and he wrapped an arm around Otto’s shoulders to lead him the rest of the way upstairs. “Come on. It’s okay.” As they traveled, Awsten offered, “I missed you in the summer, too.” 

Otto sniffled.

“Hey, um, just so you don’t get lost,” Awsten said in an attempt to distract him, “there’s three staircases here. This one and the one by the front door go to my room, but the one on the other side of the house goes straight to the top floor.” 

“Three staircases?” 

“Uh-huh.” By then, they were in the wide hallway that led to Awsten’s bedroom. He skipped over the guest rooms on the sides, but he pointed out the bathroom and the sunflower room, and then he turned Otto to face his bedroom. “And this one’s mine.”

Otto went right in.

“Juana hasn’t been here for like three weeks, so it’s kind of a mess right now,” Awsten told him, and it was true - clothes were strewn around, the desk chair was pulled back, and a pair of headphones sat tangled on the dresser, resting right on top of two dirty socks.

“Shut up. It’s _huge._ ” 

“This was actually the smallest room on this level.”

“What?”

“Yeah. The ones upstairs are even bigger. There are only two of them, and they’re like penthouse suites or something.” 

“Wow.” Otto sat down on Awsten’s bed (the only neat thing in the room; he still made it up every morning before breakfast), and his eyes filled with tears. “So, um. I’m ready to tell you now,” he stated weakly.

Awsten nodded and shut the door. 

 

* * *

“Hey, Mr. W?” Awsten called. His feet made that now-familiar _thud thud thud_ as he jogged down the staircase.

Geoff looked up, sure to keep his expression perfectly neutral as he noticed Otto trailing behind Awsten with his arms crossed over his chest. “Yes?” 

“Can we read?” 

“Of course.”  The boys came over, and Geoff noticed that Awsten had a small, black and orange novel in his hand. “Oh, an excellent choice,”he murmured as he caught a glimpse of the art on the front. 

“You know it?”

“Oh, yes. It won many awards. I have read it more than once - first in middle school and again three, perhaps four years ago.” 

Awsten handed the book to him and then gave him a pointed look. 

Geoff stared back, unsure of what Awsten was trying to say. 

With a subtle jerk of his head, Awsten motioned for Geoff to move to the couch. Slowly, Geoff stood and did. He stepped to the left, and Awsten motioned him further down, to the middle cushion and then to the far end. Awsten nodded. Geoff sat down. 

Awsten plopped down directly to his right and reached up to pull Otto to sit beside him. 

“Would you like me to start at the beginning?” Geoff wondered.

“A very good place to start,” Awsten nodded. 

“Very well. Before we do, would anyone like something to drink?” 

Awsten seemed to understand that the question was mostly for Otto’s benefit. He looked to his best friend, who was still starting at the ground, and nudged him with his elbow.

Otto quietly cleared his throat. “Um, no, thank you.” 

“Alright. Awsten?” 

“I’m good.” 

Geoff nodded and then opened to the first page. 

Awsten, in an act that was completely out of character, turned to the side and scooted backwards so that his spine was resting against Geoff’s right arm. 

Geoff glanced at him in confusion but began reading anyway. “The best time to cry is at night when the lights are out and someone is being beaten up and screaming for help.”

That had Otto’s attention. He looked over with pink eyes. 

 

_That way even if you sniffle a little they won’t hear you. If anybody knows that you are crying, they’ll start talking about it and soon it’ll be your turn to get beat up when the lights go out._

_There is a mirror over the steel sink in my cell. It’s six inches high, and scratched with the names of some guys who were here before me. When I look into the small rectangle, I see a face looking back at me but I don’t recognize it. It doesn’t look like me. I couldn’t have changed that much in a few months._

 

Otto made a small noise, and Awsten stretched one of his legs out straight so that it was lying across Otto’s lap. This seemed to comfort Otto somehow.

 

_I wonder if I will look like myself when the trial is over._

 

Otto swallowed.

 

_This morning at breakfast, a guy got hit in the face with a tray. Somebody said some little thing and somebody else got mad. There was blood all over the place._

_When the guards came over, they made us line up against the wall. The guy who was hit they made sit at the table while they waited for another guard to bring them rubber gloves. When the gloves came, the guards put them on, handcuffed the guy, and then took him to the dispensary. He was still bleeding pretty bad._

_They say you get used to being in jail, but I don’t see how. Every morning I wake up and I am surprised to be here._

 

Otto leaned toward Awsten, who slipped an arm around his shoulders. His calf was still in Otto’s lap. Otto’s hand was still resting on it. 

 

_Sometimes I feel like I have walked into the middle of a movie. It is a strange movie with no plot and no beginning. The movie is in black and white, and grainy. Sometimes the camera moves in so close that you can’t tell what’s going on and you just listen to the sounds and guess. I have seen movies of prisons but never one like this. This is not a movie about bars and locked doors. It is about being alone when you are not really alone and about being scared all the time._

 

Geoff felt Awsten relax against him, and he looked over at the two boys for a few seconds before directing his eyes back down at the page.

 

_I think to get used to this I will have to give up what I think is real and take up something else. I wish I could make sense of it._

_Maybe I could make my own movie. I could write it out and play it in my head. I could block out the scenes like we did in school. The film will be the story of my life. No, not my life, but of this experience._

 

Geoff said the words slowly the first time, but after a moment of thought, he said them again. “Not my life, but of this experience.” Then he continued.

 

_I’ll write it down in the notebook they let me keep. I’ll call it what the lady who is the prosecutor called me._

_Monster._

 

* * *

 

** December 2 **

At twelve thirty, Awsten knocked hesitantly at Mr. W’s bedroom door and then took a few steps back. He stared down at the hardwood floor while he waited for a response. He could hear creaks that meant Mr. W was making his way over, and then the door cracked open a few inches.

“Hello.”

“Hey. Um, is it okay if Otto spends the night? He’s still really upset.” 

Mr. W opened the door wider. Awsten could see that he was wearing the same striped pajamas he’d had on the other time Awsten had communicated with him in the early hours of the morning. 

“Yes,” Mr. W answered, “that is fine with me. Are his mother and father aware?”

“I don’t know.” 

“Please let them know.” 

“Okay.” 

Awsten was about to walk away when Mr. W asked, “Is Otto alright?”

“Uh, no,” Awsten said with an awkward laugh. “Not really. His parents are making him go to family therapy, so he thinks he fucked their lives up. Cause, you know, his family used to be basically perfect before the, um. The Incident. At school.” 

“Oh, dear. I see.”

He shrugged dismissively. “Um, we rented Guardians of the Galaxy on the TV upstairs. It was like four dollars. I’ll pay you for it tomorrow.”

“No, there is no need.” 

“You sure?”

“Yes.” 

Awsten gave him a small, tired smile. “Okay. Thanks. Uh, goodnight.” 

“Awsten, wait - are _you_ alright?” 

He tucked his hands into his pockets. “I guess, yeah. Just sucks to see Otto so messed up. I think we’re gonna try to go to bed in a little bit, though. He believes in that whole 'you'll feel better in the morning' thing, so.” 

“Do you require an extra toothbrush?” Mr. W asked.

That hadn’t even occurred to Awsten. “Yeah, if you have one. That would be good.” As Mr. W went over to his bathroom to retrieve it, Awsten leaned against the doorway and said to him. “It’s kinda funny; I used to be the crying kid at Otto’s house who needed pajamas and a toothbrush, and now we switched.” 

Although Awsten was fairly certain he’d been heard, Mr. W didn’t respond. The teacher returned and handed Awsten the toothbrush, which was blue and still in its package. “You are a good friend.”

“Well… we’ll see, I guess.” At Mr. W’s confused expression, Awsten elaborated, “This is the first time he’s really needed me. Other than when, like, My Chem broke up. But that wasn’t really that serious.”

Mr. W only looked more perplexed. 

“My Chemical Romance,” Awsten explained, but Mr. W still didn’t get it. “You know, the rock band? Gerard and Mikey Way? Frank Iero and Ray Toro? Welcome to the Black Parade? No?” 

Mr. W shook his head.

Awsten cracked an actual smile. “Remind me later and I’ll tell you about them. Or I’ll just get Otto to.” He held the toothbrush up. “Anyway. Thanks.” 

“You are welcome. Should you or Otto need anything, please let me know.”

“Kay. Night.” 

Mr. W responded, “Goodnight. Please do not forget to contact Mary and David. I do not want them to worry.” 

Awsten saluted and then headed to the kitchen staircase. He went up it quietly and walked back into his room to find Otto sitting cross-legged on his bed with Tuna right in front of him. He was using his pointer finger to tap lightly on her left paw and then her right and then her left again, and she was watching his hand like it was a tennis ball during an intense match. 

“Hey,” Awsten greeted. He shut the door and tossed the packaged toothbrush toward his best friend but not close enough to bother the cat. “Mr. W says you can stay, but you have to tell your parents.” 

“Can you tell them?” Otto asked, still not looking up.

“Okay.” Awsten slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out his little flip phone. He scrolled a little ways down his text messages until he found the conversation marked _Mom_. 

_Can he stay here 2night?_

The response was nearly immediate. _Sure, sweetie. Please tell him Daddy and I love him very much._

“Mom says she and your dad love you,” Awsten relayed, glancing up at him.

“Okay.” Otto didn’t look away from Tuna.

_He says luv u 2_

Awsten flopped backwards onto the bed. “Now what?” 

Otto laid down so that his forehead was resting against Awsten’s shoulder. “I don’t know.” 

“You wanna watch another movie?”

“Not really.” 

“Okay… you wanna eat something?” 

Otto shook his head.

Then, stealing something he’d heard Zakk suggest more than once at Peace and Purpose, Awsten asked, “You just wanna be sad for a while?” 

Otto nodded.

“Okay. We can do that.” Otto pressed in closer, and Awsten wrapped an arm around him. He sighed quietly and stared up at the ceiling. “We can be sad for a while.” 

 

* * *

_December 2, 2014_

_Otto is spending the night in my home for the first time. He is in Awsten’s room, and he is no longer crying, I am happy to say. The pair of them are sound asleep, tangled together under the blankets almost like lovers. (I have just retrieved Tuna from them, which is the only reason that I know this.) I do understand, though, that this is how they were as children and that they never outgrew it. How nice to have a friend to be so comfortable with, physically as well as emotionally. I have never experienced that luxury, though I am not sure I would enjoy it much. I have never been particularly affectionate in that way._

_What happened this evening does not concern me, but Awsten did explain it to me. Since lately I have been in the business of recording everything, I will give a brief recount of my side of the tale._

_Awsten and I were eating the stew we made when Otto called Awsten’s cell phone twice. I could not understand his words clearly, but I could tell even while listening from across the table that he was in tears. I let Awsten take the keys to Grandmother’s car so he would be able to get to Otto more quickly, and then I dashed to clean the kitchen (and by clean, I mean that I quite literally ran back and forth to my bedroom, depositing plates and glasses and pans onto the surfaces of my furniture until everything in the kitchen was clear). I just barely managed to complete my task and wipe the counters off before I heard the sound of the garage door._

_Miraculously, Tuna did not get in my way even once during all that rushing about._

_Shortly after they arrived, Mary called and spoke with me a bit about what had transpired… It seems that Otto and his father have not been understanding each other clearly. The way Mary described it, David is unwilling to understand (or perhaps the correct word to use here is accept) the fact that Otto’s brain chemistry has changed as a result of the traumatic stress he experienced during the lockdown. Otto’s therapist has ordered an MRI (or a brain scan or some sort of medical imagining; I am not exactly clear on the details) so that Mr. Wood can clearly see the differences between Otto’s brain and… I do not even wish to write this, but… a “normal” brain._

_This is heartbreaking._

_I cannot imagine what this must be like for any of them._

_When I use that word - "normal" - it is not hard to understand why Otto is so crushed. Awsten has mentioned many times to me over the past month that Otto believes he will be changed forever. Only time will tell, but I sincerely hope that he will be alright._

_Otto was feeling bad enough about that when Mary reported to him that they would be beginning family therapy the following morning, and apparently Otto burst into tears on the spot._

_These poor children._

_They may be adults, but they were children just months ago._

_I feel so helpless. I know that this has nothing to do with me - or perhaps a small something, but certainly not very much - but I do wish that there was more that I could do._

_Alas._

_They are asleep for now, as I should be. I had not even intended to write tonight, but rest is not coming easily._

_I will try again._

_Farewell, historians._

 

* * *

 

It had been a mostly-sleepless night. Geoff had enjoyed his chilly, morning stroll, taken a hot shower, and gotten dressed for school by the time the clock on his nightstand read 5:24 AM. He made his way into the kitchen with Tuna on his heels. Just as a pot of water was coming to a gentle boil on the stove, Geoff heard the floorboards above his head creak. He looked up in confusion; it was far too early for Awsten to be awake. 

And then Geoff remembered - Otto had stayed the night. And it was no secret that Otto had been having an abysmal time sleeping. 

Geoff resumed his routine and decided to wait to see what would happen. Hardly a few seconds later, Geoff heard him whisper, “Tuna?”

Geoff smiled to himself but kept going with the tea without saying anything. 

“Tuna? Where are you?” 

Tuna looked toward the sound of his voice but did not go to him the way she would have had it been Awsten calling.

Otto crept down the stairs. “Tuna?” he asked again, and he jumped when he noticed Geoff at the stove. 

Geoff had already decided to pretend not to have heard anything, so he turned around and feigned surprise when Otto continued down the steps. “Oh, Otto. Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Otto looked down at the cat. “Hi,” he said. Then, back to Geoff, “Sorry. I, um… I couldn’t sleep, and Awsten was hogging all the covers, so.”

Geoff smiled apologetically. “I am sorry to hear that.” 

He shrugged. “It’s okay.” 

Now that Geoff was seeing them separately, it was plain as day that they had grown up together. The way they spoke was similar, and some of their body language was identical. They really could have been brothers. 

“Would you like some tea?” Geoff offered. 

“What kind?” 

“Black.” 

“Oh, I’ve never had that.” 

“It is… rich. But I do enjoy it.” 

“Okay, I’ll try it. Thanks.” He went over to Tuna and crouched down to pet her. She rubbed her head against Otto’s wrist and purred.

“She just ate her breakfast,” Geoff told him, “so she is in a pleasant mood.” 

“Does she get in bad moods?”

“Oh, no. No. But sometimes she is more friendly than reclusive. She is more likely to be agreeable around her mealtimes.” 

Otto nodded. “I get that.” 

Geoff smiled. 

“Hey, um, that book you were reading to us yesterday… Do you still have it down here?”

“Yes. It should be on the table in the living room.” 

Otto reached forward but then paused. “If I try to pick her up, will she bite me?”

“She has never bitten anyone," Geoff responded. “I highly doubt that you will be the first.” 

Otto was hesitant anyway, but Tuna didn’t seem bothered by Otto lifting her. Geoff watched as they walked out of the room, and then there was silence. 

Tuna wandered back in after a little while, but she bypassed Geoff and went up the staircase to Awsten’s room. 

“Otto?” Geoff called quietly.

“Yeah?” 

“Did you leave the bedroom door open?” 

“Uh, it’s cracked open, yeah.” He sounded a little worried. “Is that okay?”

“That is perfect. Thank you.” After a beat, he realized that he should explain why he had asked. "Tuna is going on her search for Awsten.” 

“Oh. Yeah, he said she sleeps with him after you leave.” 

“Yes.” Geoff poured the tea out of the pot and into two cups, which he carried carefully into the living room where Otto was curled up on the couch. “Here you are,” Geoff said softly, passing him a cup and saucer.

Otto hurried to set the book down. Thankfully, he didn’t crease the page as Awsten would have, but he did set it down beside himself while it was still open. “Thank you,” Otto said, taking the teacup. 

“You are quite welcome. I am surprised that you said yes. Awsten has only tried two of my teas, and he despised them both.” 

Otto smiled. “Yeah, that sounds like him. My mom drinks tea sometimes, and I kinda like it.” He blew on it to cool it. “Thank you for letting me spend the night.” 

“Of course. Will you be staying with us again tonight?”

“Uh, no. I called my parents at, like, three o'clock in the morning, actually. We talked some about everything, and I… I’m feeling better about it.” He took a tentative sip, but it appeared to still be too hot for him to tell whether he liked it or not. “My mom kept pinning the blame on my dad - but it’s my mom, so it was all very nice. She kept saying things like ‘ _Dad_ doesn’t understand’ and ‘we’re doing this for _Dad_ , not because of you’ and all that.” 

Geoff actually found that to be an intelligent tactic. 

“And at first, I thought she was just saying it, but now that I’m saying it to you, I think she kind of meant it.” He blew on the tea again. “Cause I’m not really having panic attacks anymore, and my new medicine is helping a lot, but me and Dad are still fighting. And I think if he could just hold on for two minutes when I get mad to give me time to, like, slow down and breathe, things would be better.” 

“I hope that it works out,” Geoff offered.

“Thanks. Me, too.” 

“Do you have an appointment scheduled?” 

“Yeah. Today. That’s part of why I got so upset yesterday. It was like, here’s this news that’s gonna make you feel really bad about yourself! And you don’t get any time to be okay with it! We’re just gonna make you talk to a stranger about it, but we’ll be right there listening to everything you have to say!” 

Geoff frowned.

“It’s okay, though. We’ve done a couple family therapy sessions before, and they’re not that awful. My mom always cries, which sucks, but it does sometimes help. It’s like… I guess it’s kind of, like, okay for us to say things that offend each other. Cause instead of the other person getting mad, there's a mediator to help us figure out how to make the bad thing not happen.” 

Yes. He sounded very, very much like Awsten. 

Otto took a sip of the tea and let out a surprised sound. 

Geoff peered at him.

“It _is_ really strong!” 

“Yes.”

“You weren’t kidding!” 

Geoff smiled.

Otto took another sample. “This doesn’t taste anything like I thought it would.” 

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Otto looked at his cup thoughtfully. Honestly, he answered, “I don’t know.”

 

* * *

 

_I’ve never seen my father cry before. He wasn’t crying like I thought a man would cry. Everything was just pouring out of him and I hated to see his face. What did I do? What did I DO? Anybody can walk into a drugstore and look around. Is that what I’m on trial for? I didn’t do nothing! But everybody is just messed up with the pain._

_I didn’t fight with Mr. Nesbitt. I didn’t take any money from him. Seeing my dad cry like that was just so terrible. What was going on between us, me being his son and him being my dad, is pushed down and something else is moving up in its place. It’s like a man looking down to see his son and seeing a monster instead._

_Miss O’Brien said things were going bad for us because she was afraid that the jury wouldn’t see a difference between me and all the bad guys taking the stand. I think my dad thinks the same thing._

 

* * *

 

“How did it go?” Awsten demanded the moment Otto called. 

“Um, okay. Not bad.” 

“Good!” 

“Yeah. I’m super tired, but yeah, it was pretty good, I guess.” 

“Did you get to go in the tube?” 

Awsten could hear the smile in Otto’s voice as he replied. “Yeah, that was the whole point, dude. It was hot, and it was really loud, and I had to stay really still, but they let me pick a movie to play in the little TV in the ceiling part.”

“What movie?”

“Why?”

“Cause. I don't know. I just wanna know.”

“Uh, it was Spider-Man 2. The Tobey Maguire one.”

“Shut it off, Otto!” Awsten quoted both immediately and enthusiastically. “Shut it off!”

“Yep, that one. I fell asleep after a while, though.”

“Even though you were watching Spider-Man?”

“Yeah. But they said it said was good that I fell asleep, actually, because they’ll be able to see how crazy it is even when I’m totally relaxed. We have to wait almost a week for them to have results, but it’s not the people from the hospital today who wanted this done. It was Raymond.” 

“That’s your… psychiatrist, right?” 

“Right.” 

“The medicine one.”

“Uh-huh.” 

“Cool.” 

“Yeah." Then, without missing a beat, Otto proposed, "So, you wanna come over?” 

“Wait, now?”

“Yeah, now.”

“But don’t you have family therapy?” 

“We already did it.” 

“What? How was that?” 

“Fine. Do y-”

“Wait, wait, wait. I thought you were getting the scan and then going to therapy to talk about it!” 

“Remember the part where I just said it takes a week?” 

“So you have to do it again?”

“Yeah, dude. It’s gonna be, like, an ongoing thing. This week it was just for the lady to get to know us. So now that we’re adding this and Raymond wants me to add biofeedback, it’s family therapy, normal therapy, my psychiatrist appointments, my meetings at the sleep clinic, and biofeedback.”

“What’s biofeedback?”

“I don’t know, but from what they told me, they attach a bunch of wet wires to my brain and I watch TV or something.”

“They’re trying to kill you,” Awsten deadpanned.

“Basically. So do you wanna come over, or am I too fucked up for you now?”

“Nah, you’ll never be too fucked up. I’ll take my bike. See you in fifteen minutes?”

“Fifteen?”

“I gotta change clothes.”

“Kay. Hey, can you bring that jail book for me to borrow?”

“Monster?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” 

“Cool, thanks. See you in a minute.”

“Kay, bye. See you in a minute.”

 

* * *

 

**December 10**

“What’s wrong?” 

Awsten and Geoff had been in the middle of preparing a casserole when Geoff had frowned down at his phone. He'd had no idea Awsten had been paying him any attention. “Your mother is asking for a photograph of the two of us,” Geoff explained, “and one of the two of us with Tuna.” 

“How come?”

“She did not say.” He held the phone out so that Awsten could read the text message. 

_Hi sweetie! Do you have any pictures of you and Awsten? Please send them to me ASAP. Also, I need some of Tuna! And both of you with Tuna! Whatever you have, baby. You can email them or just send them here. Hope you boys are having a nice day!_

“She always puts that dumb kiss emoji at the end of every message to Otto, too,” Awsten sighed, shaking his head. Then he turned toward the stairs and called, “Tuna!” Back to Geoff, he said, “She’s probably in the sunflower room. I’m gonna have to go up there and get her. Well - it’s dark out now. Maybe not.” He raised his voice again. “TUNA!”

Geoff flinched at the noise, which made Awsten chuckle. 

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Although I must say, I do not believe Mary means photos taken right now. I think she is hoping for… nice ones.”

“Trust me, she’ll want whatever you give her. I bet she’s scrapbooking again. It’s one of her ‘things,’” he said, making air quotes with one hand while holding a sauce-covered spatula in the other. “She hasn’t gotten any pictures of me since the beginning of summer. Well, except for Thanksgiving. And those are the only ones she has of you at all.” 

“I see.”

“Here. Give me your phone.” And he took the device right out of Geoff’s hand. “Look.” He slid his thumb up the front of the screen, activating the camera. He pressed a button and then the phone flipped to the other lens so that their image was displayed on it. 

Geoff reached up to fix his hair, using the screen as a mirror, and Awsten promptly stuck out his tongue. He snapped a picture.

“Wait!” Geoff cried, and then he sighed, smiling a bit. “Awsten. I was not ready.” 

“Then get ready! If Mom wants pictures, we gotta send pictures.” 

Geoff obliged.

“Okay, three, two, one,” Awsten said, and he snapped another photo, this one of him with his eyes crossed. 

Geoff gave him a look. “I am sure that your mother would like a decent photograph.”

“Okay, smile, then,” Awsten said, rolling his eyes a little. He snapped one with a cheesy smile, one quick one with an actual real smile, and then one of him putting his lips out in a kissy face that looked more like a duck bill. 

When Geoff made a wordless exclamation of surprise at Awsten’s silly expression and turned to face him, Awsten looked at Geoff’s image on the screen and laughed. His thumb, which had been taking rapid-fire photos, snapped another one without him actively deciding to.

“Oops,” Awsten muttered, and he lowered the phone. He scrolled through all of the selfies and stopped on the one of both of them smiling normally. “Here, send her this one. Let me go get Tuna.” He gave the phone back and darted toward the steps. “Tuuuuuna! Where are you, baby girl?”

As he jogged upstairs, Geoff looked at each of the photos just as Awsten had done. They were goofy, yes, and not at all professional-looking, but Geoff felt that they captured the reality of life with Awsten well. Slightly grainy, strange lighting, Geoff’s facial expressions never quite matching up with Awsten’s… The last one - Awsten laughing while Geoff looked at him incredulously - Geoff decided was his favorite. 

He opened a text message to Mary and forwarded them all.

 

* * *

 

** December 20 **

The end of the semester came quickly, and with it came Christmas break. Geoff typically spent the holidays entirely isolated from the world and its sudden affinity for joy and cheer, but with Awsten in the house, there was always some Christmas-y project that was suddenly dreamed up and needed immediate doing. It was entirely unavoidable. First it had been cookie making and decorating. Then gingerbread house construction. Then driving around Lakeview to see the lights in people’s yards. Then a multi-night string of movie marathons on ABC’s 25 Days of Christmas. 

Not long after that, Awsten had presented Geoff with four ten-dollar bills and pleaded for Geoff to take him to the Christmas tree farm two towns over. If Geoff didn’t want a tree downstairs, Awsten had said, he would just pick out a small one to put in his bedroom. Geoff wouldn’t even know it was there!

Of course, they returned with two trees: a small but healthy looking one for Awsten, and the biggest one they could find to set up in the living room. Awsten had invited Otto over, and they’d made a whole afternoon of dressing it up with ornaments and tinsel. 

The latest project was hot chocolate. Awsten had been talking to Otto about walking down to Carson’s and buying a box of off-brand instant powder, but Geoff had casually mentioned that he possessed a homemade recipe, which Awsten was more than willing to try.

Geoff rifled through the cabinet for the recipe book that had been pushed all the way to the back. Once he located it, he pulled out a card that read, _Lizzie’s Favorite Hot Chocolate!_ and was dated November 1998.

“Who’s Lizzy?” Awsten asked, peering down at it.

Geoff smiled sadly. “Lizzy was a… codename of sorts. Short for Elizabeth Bennet.”

“That’s a _nickname_ , not a codename,” Awsten corrected. 

Geoff hummed and turned back to the stove. “Well, it would be a codename if your real name was Clara Rose.”

Awsten gasped softly. Otto just looked confused. 

“This is her recipe?!” 

“Yes.” 

“Holy shit!” Awsten reached forward and excitedly grabbed it.

“Be careful,” Geoff ordered, his voice coming out a bit more sternly than he’d meant for it to; the flowery notecard was practically all he had left of her. 

Awsten didn’t seem to mind. “Look at her handwriting! It’s like… what’s the word?”

“Calligraphy,” Otto told him authoritatively. 

“Yeah, calligraphy!”

Otto wondered, “Who’s Clara Rose?” 

Geoff glanced sharply toward Awsten; he enjoyed Otto’s company and was happy to have him over any time, but the conversation Geoff had engaged in with Awsten about Clara Rose had been private. 

Awsten was already looking worriedly back at him. “Um…” he stalled.

“It’s okay,” Otto interrupted amiably, shaking his head. Then, with a dismissive shrug, he commented, “My parents and I have family secrets, too.”

Awsten’s anxious expression was replaced with a hesitant smile. 

There was an awkward silence, but Awsten soon filled it by reading off the recipe card. 

“Heat four cups whole milk in sauce pan until tiny bubbles form. DO NOT let boil. Add secret ingredient number one.” He looked up at Geoff. “What’s secret ingredient number one?” 

With a mischievous smile, Geoff held up a little sugar bowl.

Awsten laughed. “This is you being rebellious, isn’t it?” 

“Perhaps.” As he measured a minuscule amount and sprinkled it in, Awsten continued.

“While milk is warming,” he read, “place eight ounces of chopped, bittersweet chocolate in the microwave for thirty seconds, then stir. Repeat until completely melted.”

“I can do that part,” Otto volunteered. Geoff pointed him to a microwave safe bowl, and he measured the chocolate and slid it into the microwave. 

“Once that’s all melted and the milk is ready, you pour the chocolate in. Then that’s it for a while,” Awsten told them. Then he set the recipe card down and climbed onto the counter to sit. Geoff watched as Awsten leaned over to look at the milk in the saucepan. 

Aside from the noise of Awsten's heels lightly bumping against the cabinets, the room grew silent. 

Geoff recognized the look on Awsten’s face. It was the same look that he got when Geoff was reading to him, when they had been driving in the car for some time, when they had been waiting around in the kitchen for something to be ready to come out of the oven…

Relaxed.

Awsten looked relaxed. 

“What was the name of that musical group that you mentioned to me a few nights ago?” Geoff asked him. 

“The Cheetah Girls?” Otto joked.

“What?” Awsten asked, not moving except to make a face at him. “No, uh, it was My Chem.” 

Otto’s eyes lit up. “The best band ever!” 

As Geoff had anticipated, Otto took over the conversation then, using his words to paint a vivid picture of corpse parades, vigilantes running wild through the desert, and slamming electric guitars. Awsten was able to stare quietly back down into the warming milk.

Otto had just put the chocolate into the microwave for a third time and was saying enthusiastically to Geoff, “Yeah, and the whole music video takes place at this funeral, but it’s like. Crazy. They’ve got all these people dancing, and then the dead girl? She comes back to life! And everybody’s praying, so they’re looking down at the ground, and so they don’t see that she’s getting out of the casket and walking down the aisle of the church.” 

Geoff’s eyes slid over to Awsten, who was staring down at the pan a little more intensely. His fingers were digging into his own skin. 

“Oh?” Geoff asked, and he intended to invent a question to hopefully change the subject a bit, but before he could say anything else, Otto continued.

“She starts dancing, too - she’s got ballet slippers on - and it’s so creepy, but then she dies again, and the band carries her down the church steps in her casket and in the _pouring_ rain. And then they put her in the hearse, and the last thing that happens is that Gerard closes the door, and he puts his hand up on the glass and looks through the window, and like - ugh! It’s _so cool_!” 

“Are you still in love with him?” Awsten asked, and Geoff was relieved to see a teasing smile back on his face.

“No! Shut up. I just think he’s awesome. Frank, too. And Ray and Mikey. They’re all awesome.” 

Awsten made a ridiculous kissing sound, and Otto lunged forward to smack at him. 

“Alright,” Geoff warned, and Otto stopped, although Awsten kept grinning at him. “The stove is hot. We are trying to get the milk to one hundred and eighty degrees, and I do not want either of you to be burned.” 

“Yeah, speaking of that,” Awsten said, and he pointed down at the milk, which had just started to bubble.

“Otto, would you fetch the chocolate from the microwave?” Geoff asked. “Awsten, please get down before you are injured.” 

Awsten obeyed easily. 

Geoff blinked in surprise. A year previously, getting Awsten to follow any instruction had been nearly impossible. And now…

“Anyway,” Otto said to Awsten, “it’s not like you don’t worship Billie Joe Armstrong.” 

“Worshipping is different than being in lahhhve!” 

Otto snorted. Carefully, he poured the chocolate into the mixture.

“Listen, I’d do fucking anything Billie Joe asked me to do. But I wouldn’t _kiss_ him!” 

“Yes, you would,” Otto laughed. 

“Nuh-uh.”

“You would if he asked you to!” 

Geoff glanced over at Awsten, who was considering this.

After a long contemplation, Awsten threw his hands up. “Fine. I guess.” 

“Ha!”

“But it would be weird as fuck!”

As they started jokingly bickering, Geoff turned the heat off began to stir the chocolate in with the milk. He caught a whiff of the sweet smell, and immediately he was drenched in memories and nostalgia. His thoughts slid to Clara Rose. Everything had always felt so easy with her. 

Whether during the school year or the summer, Geoff would spend the afternoons shelving books. Clara Rose would follow right behind him, quiet as a church mouse, and remove them and take them home so that she could read them. Then he’d have to shelve them all over again. But he didn’t mind. On the best days, when there wasn’t much to do, she would sit on the desk and he in the rolling chair, and she would read to him. 

She did voices for the characters, which no one else Geoff had ever known had been brave enough - or bright enough, perhaps - to do, and he always enjoyed that. She kept herself together flawlessly in the sad parts but allowed herself a moment of laughter when things got silly. And she would read him anything - classic novels, fantasy chapter books, murder mysteries, and even children’s books. One rainy day, they sat on the floor together in the “Kids’ Corner,” and she read him Goodnight, Moon three times over. 

He remembered how it felt to be pressed beside her, the book resting half on his knee and half on hers. The moment had been quiet and comfortable and safe. No one had existed in the world besides the two of them. Even now, more than ten years later, he could still hear her voice.

_In the great green room, there was a telephone, and a red balloon, and a picture of the cow jumping over the moon._

The library had been about to close, and had Geoff allowed himself to sink into the story the way he later supposed that Clara Rose had allowed herself to sink into him.

“Mr. W?”

He hadn’t thought of her much, most likely because it had been so long. But ever since he had discussed her with Awsten, he missed her terribly.

_And there were three little bears sitting on chairs, and two little kittens, and a pair of mittens, and a little toy house, and a young mouse, and a comb, and a brush, and a bowl full of mush, and a quiet old lady who was whispering “hush.”_

“Mr. W.”

_Goodnight room. Goodnight moon. Goodnight cow jumping over the moon. Goodnight light and the red balloon. Goodnight b-_

“Dad!”

Mr. W snapped out of the flood of memories and turned toward Awsten with wide eyes. 

“I think you stirred it all,” Awsten said, pointing at the mixture in the pan. “We’ve gotta do the next part before it cools off.”

“Oh - y-yes. Right.” 

Otto looked as stunned as Geoff felt, but Awsten seemed calm, if not a bit confused. 

Geoff crossed the room to set the whisk in the sink. “I apologize. I was a bit…” Instead of finishing his sentence, he cleared his throat. “What next?” 

“You have the recipe,” Awsten told him, pointing again.

“Oh, yes. Of course. Well, then.” Geoff forced himself to pull in a deep breath, and he willed his heart to stop battering against his chest. All that thinking about Clara Rose had overwhelmed him. 

Silently, he sighed. it wasn’t Clara Rose that set his heart pounding; it had been one word.

_Dad._

Geoff passed Awsten the notecard.

Awsten scanned it for a moment before reading, “Add secret ingredient number two or three if you like,” and looking up at him expectantly.

Geoff nodded and, the smile returning to his face, asked, “Are either of you allergic to cinnamon?”

 

* * *

 

**December 24**

Awsten and Otto were sound asleep by the fire under the line of stockings Mary had hung along Geoff’s mantle. Otto was lying facedown, his body flat on the hardwood floor. He was wearing only a pair of small, red pajama shorts covered in printed cartoon reindeer. Geoff had been worried that he would be cold, but after a bit, he noticed sweat glistening on his spine.

Awsten was asleep beside Otto the way Tuna slept beside Geoff: not pressed against him, but still near enough to easily reach out and touch him. He had on a new pajama set from Mrs. Wood (an early gift) and a borrowed pair of Geoff’s knitted socks, and Otto’s arm was resting over his back. Between them lay Otto’s cell phone, which was playing, instead of Christmas songs, My Chemical Romance.

Geoff had no problem focusing on his novel even with the sound of the music coming through the tinny speaker. Still, he knew from the Internet that noise and light would disrupt the boys’ sleep and make it easier for them to have nightmares, so once he reached a stopping point in the story, he got up quietly from his armchair and walked over to slowly turn down the volume. He waited a handful of seconds after each increment he lowered it, not wanting a sudden absence of noise to wake them. 

He was setting the phone quietly back down between their heads when Otto stirred. With a sleepy sound, he retracted his arm from around Awsten, rolled over onto his back, and slowly opened his eyes. 

“I am sorry,” Geoff whispered to him.

“It’s okay,” Otto yawned. He spent a moment readjusting. 

Geoff turned the fire off, brought a heavy throw blanket over to the boys, and began to walk away.

“Wait.”

Geoff turned back, and Otto had the same look in his eyes that Awsten often had. 

“Thanks for taking care of him.”

“Oh… you are welcome. Thank you as well.”

“I like you a lot,” Otto said quietly, “but he loves you a lot.” Evenly, he added, “Don’t ever mess that up.” 

The teenager was still half-asleep, but something about this conversation felt very serious to Geoff. “I will take care not to.” 

Otto nodded. 

“Goodnight, Otto,” Geoff murmured. 

“Night.” 

 

* * *

**December 25**

“Awsten, wake up! Wake up!” Otto cried, shaking Awsten’s shoulder.

“Mmph?” he groaned, sitting up a little. “Dude, what are we doing? Did we sleep on the floor all night?” 

“Yep!”

Awsten groaned again, louder. 

Otto laughed. “Come on, everyone’s awake. Presents!”

He opened one eye. “Cinnamon rolls?” 

“After presents - you know that. Come on!” 

Otto’s family was a family who sat in a circle and took turns opening their gifts. Otto was always in charge of passing out the packages, and, despite the fact that they were at Mr. W’s house, today was no different. 

“Here, Mr. W, you can go first!”

“Oh, thank you, Otto,” Mr. W responded politely, accepting a beautiful, red box covered in polar bear wrapping paper. He carefully lifted the tape from the corners, and Awsten and Otto traded a glance.

“You can rip it,” Awsten encouraged.

“Yes, but I prefer to unwrap boxes with this method,” Mr. W replied, and that was that. 

Inside the box was a fancy, white teacup with hand painted blue flowers on the side. “Oh, this is lovely,” he hummed appreciatively. “Thank you, Mary. Thank you, David. I love it.” 

“He’s gonna use that all the time,” Awsten nodded.

“Oh, good. You’re welcome, baby,” Mrs. Wood replied happily. 

“Merry Christmas,” Mr. Wood added. 

“Thank you,” Mr. W repeated. “Merry Christmas to you.” 

“Me next,” Awsten said eagerly to Otto.

“Okay!” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Awsten caught Mrs. Wood smiling at Mr. Wood and leaning over to rest her head on his shoulder. Mr. Wood slipped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head.

“Hmm…” Otto surveyed the presents and then reached in and grabbed a blue one. “This one’s from me!” 

“Is it a thousand dollars?” Awsten teased.

“Nope.” 

“Is it… a _million_ dollars?”

“Awsten.”

“Is it-”

“Shut up and just open it.” He shoved it into Awsten’s hands, and Awsten shook it lightly. 

“Is it empty?”

“Are you gonna open it or what?” 

“Okay, okay.” Awsten ripped loudly into the wrapping paper and opened the box. Inside was a folded piece of paper. Everyone was quiet while Awsten spent several seconds reading it. “Cool!” he said after a moment. “Thanks!”

“What is it?” Mr. W asked curiously.

“It’s a year of AP Magazine.”

Mr. W nodded, but his confusion was clear, so Awsten explained, “It’s about rock and alternative music.”

“I got it sent here, to Mr. W’s house,” Otto said, his eyes on Awsten. Then he looked at Mr. W a little nervously.”I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course,” Mr. W nodded.

“Yeah, no, that’s great,” Awsten agreed. He reached over and embraced his best friend. “Thanks, dude. Now I don’t have to wait for you to finish.”

“Now I don’t have to wait for you to catch up!”

 

* * *

 

More gifts were given - two video games, an iTunes gift card, a fancy standing mixer, some under-cabinet lighting… Awsten had gotten Geoff some dishwashing detergent as a joke but also framed a cute photo of Tuna and picked out a few Disney and Marvel DVDs, some candy, and a nice mug that looked black with a faint Hogwarts crest on it. Upon further inspection, Geoff realized that it would turn into a gorgeous blue with a Ravenclaw eagle when hot liquid was poured into it. (“Fascinating,” Geoff had murmured as he studied the box it came in. “Thank you, Awsten. I will have to try it with breakfast.”)

Although Geoff had picked out an expensive coffee table book for the Woods, he was starting to feel self-conscious about having selected novels for everyone. When Mrs. Wood unwrapped hers, she seemed genuinely excited to read it, though, and Awsten smiled at him like he’d done something good.

“Oh, this is that book we talked about at Duffy’s!” Mrs. Wood exclaimed. 

“Yes,” Geoff nodded. “I am still not entirely sure whether you will enjoy it, but I do hope that you will. It is an… interesting story, to say the least.” 

“What is it called?” Mr. Wood asked, peering down.

“The Night Circus.”

“I think I’ve heard of that,” Mr. Wood commented, and he looked up and nodded at Geoff.

“Yes. It became a bestseller. It was quite successful.”

“Stories are light,” Mrs. Wood read aloud from a slip of paper Geoff had tucked inside the front cover. “Light is precious in a world so dark.”

“Hey, that’s from Despereaux, right?” Awsten asked. 

Geoff looked over at him in surprise. “Yes, it is.” 

Awsten grinned. “I knew it!”

Mary’s eyes slid down the note, and then she smiled at Geoff again. “Thank you, baby.”

“You are welcome,” Geoff said in response. She was truly so kind. 

“Do I get a book, too?” Awsten asked, and Geoff thought he detected a little bit of hope in Awsten’s voice.

“You will just have to wait and see, I suppose,” Geoff replied, attempting to hide his smile. There were three presents under the tree for Awsten from Geoff, and the book Geoff had selected for him was most definitely the one Awsten would be least excited about.

Awsten turned to Otto. “Find mine. I wanna open it now.”

“It’s not your turn!” Otto protested.

“Fine, find it on my next turn, then.” 

Geoff smiled. 

Soon, Awsten was tearing the paper off of a blue book. He stared down at it and tilted his head. “Wonder,” he read off of the front. Then he flipped it over to study the back cover. 

“What’s it about?” Otto inquired, and Geoff was about to respond when Awsten asked curiously, “Why this one?” He wasn’t complaining; he looked genuinely curious. “You said you and Mom talked about hers. But I’ve never heard of this.”

“I believe,” Geoff said slowly, “that this is a book you will find value in. Hearing your phone calls with Travis lately is what pushed me to choose it.” 

“Cool.” He flipped through it and then asked, “Is this a book for us or for the yogurt place?” 

“Whichever you prefer.” 

Awsten nodded. “For us, then.” To the Woods, he stated, “Books that have bad words and inappropriate stuff, I read on my own while I’m at work. Everything else, he reads to me.” Then he turned back to Geoff. “Hey, did you get Otto one, too? Maybe he can come over and you can read it to both of us!” 

“There is a novel for everyone,” Geoff confessed.

“Yes!”

Mr. Wood was given _Making Rumors: The Inside Story of the Classic Fleetwood Mac Album_ (“I know you both enjoy their music,” Geoff explained, “so I thought perhaps you could both take a turn with it.”), and Otto received a copy of _The Art of Racing in the Rain_ , a book apparently narrated by a dog. 

“I wanna read it!” Awsten exclaimed enviously.

“I’ll come over,” Otto told him, “like you said.” 

Mr. Wood cleared his throat.

Otto added quickly. “If that’s okay, I mean…”

Geoff smiled. “You are more than welcome, Otto. Any time.”

Awsten looked pleased. 

On the next round, Awsten opened a plain white box from Geoff and gasped when he saw what was inside. He looked up at Geoff with a delighted smile. “No way! You remembered!” 

“I wondered if I might help begin your collection.”

“What is it, baby?” Mrs. Wood inquired.

Awsten pulled a thick, wild, rainbow sweater out of the box and grinned. “Sick! Oh my god, I love it!” He pulled it right down over his pajamas. 

“Is that the one you sent me online?” Mary asked Geoff in surprise.

Geoff shrugged, not quite meeting her eye. She’d told him not to purchase it; it had an Australian designer label, so it cost hundreds of dollars. Six, to be exact. _For a sweater!_ she’d sputtered, outraged, but Awsten didn’t need to know about the price tag. He was pleased, and that was more than enough for Geoff. 

“It suits you,” Geoff told him truthfully. 

“Right?! And it’s so fucking soft!” Awsten continued. He ran his fingers over the bumpy mishmash of material, and his smile only grew wider. “Oh my god. Otto, feel how soft this thing is!” He stuck his arm out, and Otto rubbed the fabric and then nodded. 

“It’s nice.” 

“Nice? I’m a fucking _gumball machine_ ,” Awsten declared excitedly, which pulled a chuckle out of everyone.

“Here, baby, let me take your picture,” Mrs. Wood said. “Geoff, go sit with him, please, honey.” 

Geoff obliged. Awsten leaned toward Geoff and smiled. 

Once the photograph was taken, he looked over and said, “Thank you! I’m never taking this off.” 

“You are welcome,” Geoff told him warmly. 

“First step to becoming Mr. Miller: complete!”

Otto and Mary looked puzzled, but Mr. Wood let out an amused laugh. 

“Only three more left!” Mary noted a few minutes later as she surveyed the tree skirt. “I think they’re all for you boys.” 

“What order do you want them in?” Otto asked her, since she had been telling them all morning to wait to open those. 

Geoff began to feel a hint of anxiety. He hoped he hadn’t gone overboard. 

“Have Awsten open that big one first.”

“Okay.” Otto passed it to him. 

Awsten tore into it and then stared at the gift, puzzled. “A scrapbook?” he asked. “You don’t even have any new pictures of me.” He opened it and then quietly gasped. He looked at Mom, at Geoff, and then back down at the page. Then he looked back up at Geoff. 

“What?! Have you been secretly taking pictures of me all this time?!” he demanded. Before anyone could answer, Awsten tilted the book toward Otto and jabbed his finger at the first photograph. “This is from, like, August!”

“It’s a great picture of you,” Otto shrugged.

Geoff silently agreed. It was the first photograph he had snapped of Awsten in the backyard. They had been headed out for their nightly walk, and Awsten had run ahead. It was the golden hour (although in reality, it was more like the golden eight minutes, so Geoff had never been sure why it was called that), and Awsten was standing at the wall of sunflowers. Geoff hadn’t sent a photo to Mary in a while, so he covertly took one while Awsten was busy looking up at one of the tallest flowers with a wide grin on his face. 

He hadn’t looked at it at the time - he was too eager to tuck his phone into his pocket as not to be caught - but when they had returned home that night and Geoff selected it to send, he did a double-take. The lighting was perfect, and Awsten’s smile looked so genuine and carefree that it made Geoff’s chest ache. 

“I asked for them,” Mary stated. 

“That’s so creepy,” Awsten muttered, but Geoff could tell from his face that he didn’t really mean it.

“No, baby. I hadn’t seen you for weeks. Months! I missed you, and I wanted to know you were okay.”

Awsten turned the page, and Geoff could see a photo from Halloween of Awsten in his costume giving candy out to children at the door and, beside it, a picture from the same night of Awsten with whiskers still drawn on his face, sitting on the couch with a costumed Tuna snuggled against his chest.

Awsten ran his fingers over the cat in the photograph and then sat up. “Tuna!” he called. 

There was a soft _meow_ from somewhere in the direction of the kitchen, and Awsten got up from his spot on the floor and went to look for her, leaving the scrapbook discarded on the hardwood. 

“There are pictures of you two in there from the hospital,” Mary said quietly to Otto. Then, to Geoff, she said, “You, too.” 

At Geoff’s confused expression, Mr. Wood supplied, “She likes to take pictures of people sleeping.” 

“No, I don’t!” Mary protested.

Otto gave her an amused look. “Yeah, Mom, you do.” 

She frowned, but before anything else could be said, Awsten returned and plopped onto the ground with Tuna cradled in his arms like a baby.

“Is that your daughter?” Otto joked.

“Yes,” Awsten shot back defensively.

Otto rolled his eyes. “Okay, well… My turn.” 

He unwrapped a small box and found two gift cards: one for a year of Xbox Live Gold and one for a year of PlayStation Plus. “Both?! Awesome!” He smiled up at his parents. “Thank you!” 

“You’re welcome, baby,” Mary replied. “Merry Christmas.” 

“This is the last one,” Otto said, holding up a small but thick rectangular box and passing it to Awsten.

“Be careful with that,” Mr. Wood said. 

Awsten peered down at the label. “From the grownups,” Awsten read aloud, and he looked confusedly up at them. 

“It’s mostly from Mr. W,” Mr. Wood noted. “Mama and me chipped in. But this is his present.” 

Geoff pressed his fingers to his mouth nervously. 

“Okay,” Awsten said slowly. 

“Be careful with it,” Mary repeated.

Geoff noticed that, heeding the advice, Awsten took up Geoff's method of undoing the tape holding the wrapping paper on the gift. 

He must have seen some of the words printed on the box before he got it fully open because he froze and looked up at Geoff with wide eyes.

“No!” he whispered, taken aback. 

“What is it?” Otto asked, peering over his shoulder.

“No,” Awsten said again, his eyes directly on Geoff. “No, why did you do that?!” 

“You have been working incredibly hard, and I believe that you have earned it. I-”

“I can’t pay for this.”

Mrs. Wood piped up, “That’s the point, baby. Now you don’t have to.” 

“What is it?” Otto pushed at Awsten’s shoulder.

“I will return it if you like,” Geoff continued, “but I have already added it to the plan. It is no trouble.”

Awsten looked at him for a long moment, thinking hard. Then he looked back down at the box and pushed the green wrapping paper off the rest of it. 

“That’s the new iPhone!” Otto declared in surprise. “A six plus! Flip it over.” 

Awsten obeyed, and Otto pulled in a soft gasp. “Look,” Otto said, pointing down at something near the bottom, and Awsten gave him a confused look. Otto cupped his hand around Awsten’s ear and whispered something. The longer Otto spoke, the paler Awsten grew.

He swallowed and looked down at it. “Mr. W, are you sure about this?” he asked.

“If you do not like it, I am happy to take it back,” he stated simply. He’d known that this was going to be “a big deal to him,” as Mr. Wood had warned, but Geoff hadn’t thought that Awsten would be… well, he seemed almost frightened.

“No, I like it. I like it,” Awsten hurried to assure. “I like it a whole lot. I just - it’s so much money. Can I pay you back?” 

“You needn’t.”

“But-”

“We can discuss this later,” Geoff interrupted amiably, not wanting to put a damper on anything.

“No, wait,” Awsten pleaded. “I-”

“It’s a gift, honey,” Mrs. Wood said warmly. “Mr. W is right; you’ve earned this. If you’re worried about the money, we can talk about it, but baby, let us do this for you. Let _him_ do this for you. Okay?” 

Awsten’s eyes traveled from his mother to the white box in his hands and over to Geoff again. “You’re sure?” he repeated.

Geoff nodded. 

“Awsten, just take the present!” Otto exclaimed. 

Awsten looked at him with a hesitant look on his face. 

“Come on, if you give it back, you can’t FaceTime me when I go back to school next month!”

Awsten sighed and then smiled. “Okay.” 

Otto and Mary both cheered, and Geoff smiled. Otto and his father started to clean the wrapping paper up while Mary headed to the kitchen to start making the cinnamon rolls. Awsten made a beeline for Geoff.

“Thank you,” he said softly, just for Geoff to hear, and wrapped his rainbow sweater-covered arms around Geoff. With his chin on Geoff’s shoulder, he asked. “Did you see me looking at them online the other day?” 

Surprise shot through him. “No, I did not know you were interested. I merely thought it would be nice for you to have.” 

Awsten pulled back. “Well, I really do wanna pay you back for it. At least for part of it. I…”

He stopped, so Geoff said, “I am more than wiling to take care of all of it, but should you wish, I am comfortable with you paying for your service each month.” 

Awsten nodded. “Yeah. How much is it?” 

“Twenty-five dollars,” he lied.

“Yes,” Awsten said eagerly. “Okay.” He threw his arms around Geoff’s neck again. “Thank you.” 

Geoff patted him lightly on the back. “You are welcome.” 

“It really means a lot to me that you’re here,” Awsten added as he straightened. 

_That you got me an iPhone_ was what Geoff had been expecting. Or maybe _that you spent so much money on me._ But hearing that… it was so much sweeter. 

“Of course, Awsten.” 

“And that you let everybody come over, and, like. I don’t know. Just, thank you. It’s cheesy as fuck, but that’s the best present I could have gotten. You’re the b-”

“Hey!” Otto shouted, laughing as his dad tossed a balled up wad of wrapping paper at him. 

Geoff smiled at them, and Awsten pushed the iPhone, still in its package, into Geoff’s hands, and dove over to join Team Otto, playfully throwing ribbons and empty boxes and wrapping paper at Mr. Wood.

 

* * *

 

_I'd been reading for over an hour and sleep still didn't come. It was almost two a.m. Everyone else was asleep. I had my flashlight on under the sleeping bag, and maybe the light was why I couldn't sleep, but I was too afraid to turn it off. I was afraid of how dark it was outside the sleeping bag._

_When we got back to our section in front of the movie screen, no one had even noticed we'd been gone. Mr. Tushman and Ms. Rubin and Summer and all the rest of the kids were just watching the movie. They had no clue how something bad had almost happened to me and Jack. It's so weird how that can be, how you could have a night that's the worst in your life, but to everybody else it's just an ordinary night._

_Like, on my calendar at home, I would mark this as being one of the most horrific days of my life. This and the day Daisy died. But for the rest of the world, this was just an ordinary day. Or maybe it was even a good day. Maybe somebody won the lottery today._

_Amos, Miles, and Henry brought me and Jack over to where we'd been sitting before, with Summer and Maya and Reid, and then they went and sat where they had been sitting before, with Ximena and Savanna and their group. In a way, everything was exactly as we had left it before we went looking for the toilets. The sky was the same. The movie was the same. Everyone's faces were the same. Mine was the same._

_But something was different. Something had changed._

 

* * *

** December 30 **

Awsten gently cleared his throat.

Mr. W looked up from the book he was reading at the kitchen table. “Oh, hello there.”

“Hey. So, um,” Awsten said hesitantly, “there’s gonna be fireworks tomorrow, and I was kind of thinking, like. Well, you know Mom invited us over for dinner, and Otto wants to watch New Year’s Rockin’ Eve and stuff, but I looked it up, and nobody good is gonna be on. One Direction is the only decent band, but they're kinda lame. Then it's just, like, Fergie and Meghan Trainor, who suck ass.”

Mr. W blinked. 

“But I was thinking maybe we could go back to that ice cream place where we went on Fourth of July. I know it was kinda far, and the fireworks would go a lot later this time since they won't start til midnight, but I just thought… I don’t know. Maybe we could go to Mom’s and eat dinner with them, and then you and me could leave afterwards?” 

“So long as it is alright with your mother, I think that is a fine idea. I will call to see whether Scoops will be open.”

Awsten nodded in relief. “Okay, thanks. Um, I also kind of thought… there’s actually, like, civilization out there, so maybe we could go to a movie or something to kill time. Unless there’s, like, an art museum or something you want to go to…”

“No, I think that a movie would be nice,” Mr. W nodded. “There are plenty out right now. Into the Woods, American Sniper-” He faltered. “Although perhaps that is not a sensible choice.”

“Yeah,” Awsten muttered.

“The latest installment of The Hobbit, Big Eyes…” He trailed off, but he looked like he was trying to think of more.

“What’s Big Eyes?” 

“It is a film based on a true story of a famous painter. Or rather, someone whom everyone believed to be a famous painter. I will not spoil the story.”

“Oh. Um, I was kind of thinking I want to see the new Annie. But we can look at those, too. Maybe we can go to more than one.” 

Mr. W smiled like he didn’t think seeing multiple movies was a 'sensible choice,' either. “Annie would be lovely,” he responded. And then Awsten realized that he looked a little sad. 

“What’s wrong? We don’t have to go at all if you don’t want to. I was just thinking of stuff we could do.”

“Oh, no, no. It is not that. Your mother spoke once about how you always enjoyed Annie when you were much younger; that is all.”

“Yeah,” Awsten murmured, and his thoughts zoomed back twelve years to when he would routinely sit in on the floor in front of the Woods’ television set watching the red VHS tape. “I used to make Otto watch it all the time. He didn’t really care about it, but I don’t think he hated it, either.” He paused and then added, “I didn’t know she remembered that.”

“Oh, yes. She recalls it very clearly, I believe.” 

Awsten shrugged. “It’s a good story. And it has good songs, so.” 

Mr. W smiled then. “Yes, she said you were always enthusiastic about the musical numbers.”

Putting on jazz hands and kicking his feet, Awsten began to playfully sing. “Hey, hobo man! Hey, Dapper Dan! You’ve both got your style, but brother, you’re never fully dressed without a smiiiiile!”

Mr. W chuckled as Awsten spent several seconds singing and danced around the kitchen.

“It’s what you wear from eaaar to eaaar,” Awsten continued, drawing a line across his mouth, “and not from head to toe thaaaaaat maaaaaaaa-tterrrrrrrsssss…” He did a quick little tap dance and then dropped his shoulders, and his voice returned back to normal. “Yeah. I love Annie. I accidentally learned the whole dance to Hard Knock Life.”

“Then it’s settled,” Mr. W declared. “We shall find a late showing of Annie and go to the ice cream parlor afterward.”

“The ice cream pahhh-luh,” Awsten parroted in an exaggeratedly snooty voice.

Mr. W raised his eyebrows.

“What?” Awsten asked defensively, and then he laughed. “Thank you.” 

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

** December 30 **

“Bye, Mom.”

She leaned in through the open passenger window and kissed his cheek. “Bye, sweetie.” To both of them, she instructed, “You boys drive safe!”

“We will!” Awsten promised, even though he wouldn’t be the one driving.

“I love you so much, both of you,” she called as Awsten rolled the window up. “Happy New Year!”

He waved, and Geoff started backing down the driveway. 

“Ugh, I’m so full I’m gonna explode,” Awsten complained, his hand splaying across his stomach. 

Immediately, Geoff asked, in a voice that was far too calm, “You will not get carsick, will you?”

“No, I never do that.” 

He relaxed significantly. “Good. Alright.” 

Awsten gave him a weird look. “I’m not gonna puke on your carpet. Don’t worry.”

“Awsten,” Geoff said tightly, “could we discuss something else, please?” 

“Like what?” 

“I do not know.”

“Hmm.” There were barely three seconds of quiet before Awsten asked, “How long is the drive? I was pretty… out of it last time,” he confessed.

“It’s about thirty minutes.”

Awsten’s eyes about fell out of his head. “What?!”

“Did it feel longer than that?” Geoff asked knowingly.

“Yeah!”

He nodded. “I could tell that it was helping, so I took several… detours.” 

Awsten smiled. “Otto used to call that a long-cut.”

Geoff tipped his head.

“Like a shortcut but to make it last longer. A long-cut.” 

“Ah.” 

“Anyway, we gotta get one of those giant tubs of popcorn.”

“What?”

“What?” Awsten repeated.

“Well, pardon me,” Geoff said with a slight smile, “but I was under the impression that you are so full that you are going to explode.” 

“Yeah, _now_ ,” he replied, as though it should have been obvious. “but I won’t be in an hour! Plus, you can’t go to the movie theater and not get the giant tub of popcorn. It’s, like, the law!”

Geoff blew air out through his nostrils.

“It is!” Awsten insisted. “Besides, I bet you never even had one before.”

“How did you know that?”

Awsten shrugged. “You don’t seem like the type.” 

The drive went quickly, and so did the movie. Soon, they were leaving the theater, Geoff with his keys and his wallet and Awsten happily toting a massive soda and the largest container of popcorn Geoff had ever seen. 

“I didn’t like all that technology in that house,” Awsten decided. “It’s like that freaky Disney Channel movie where the house gets too smart and takes over everything. And like - what if the power goes out?”

Geoff hummed thoughtfully.

“But god, that was so good. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that. But I still liked it so much!”

“It was very well-done,” Geoff agreed. 

“And Sia! God! SIA!” Awsten yelled as they walked out of the theater doors and into the chilly night. Three different people turned to look at him.

“Hush,” Geoff said gently, but Awsten paid him no mind. 

“I heard she sang in the movie and that she even helped write some of the stuff, but I forgot all about it until You’re Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile.” He looked pointedly at Geoff. “You know that’s my song.” 

“I remember,” Geoff smiled.

“That one and I Think I’m Gonna Like It Here. But yeah, Sia’s a goddess. Dude, Jawn even likes her, and he doesn’t like _anything_. Have you seen that music video?”

“Which?”

“For Chandelier!”

Geoff gave him a blank look.

“You know, the one with the little girl dancing around that house. IIIII wanna swiiiiing from the chandeliiiiieer! From the chandeliiiiiiieeeerrr! Hey, what did you think of Miss Hannigan? I actually really liked the changes to the song - melodically, I mean; I don’t know about lyrically - but I thought her story was like, lame. Believable, I guess. But kinda lame.” 

Geoff just nodded. 

“The alcohol sucks, though. I feel bad for those kids, you know? And now that they got a new actress, she even _looks_ like my mom.” 

They both nervously turned to look at each other. 

“Um, but anyway,” Awsten said quickly, forcing his wide eyes back to normal, “I loved the idea of Mr. Stacks.” 

“Yes,” Geoff said. The theater was dead since it was 11:30 PM on New Year’s Eve, so the pair had already arrived at the car.

“And the Annie girl! She was awesome!”

“Yes, I agree,” Geoff agreed, hurrying to fit his opinion in as he unlocked the car and slid behind the driver’s seat. “She was quite talented.” 

Awsten devoured another handful of popcorn. “I wish they hadn’t auto-tuned her so much,” he mused through his mouthful, “but you can tell her voice is still great. All those kids were so good.” 

“Awsten.” 

“Yes?”

“Not to interrupt you, but so that I know in which direction to drive: are you wanting to go straight to Scoops?” 

“Uh-huh.”

Geoff had to laugh. 

“What?” 

“Well, you have been eating nonstop for the last three hours.”

“I took a break for half an hour,” Awsten told him, frowning. “On the drive here.” 

Geoff just shook his head. 

“Is the Annie soundtrack out yet?” Awsten wondered, already moving on, and he slid his new iPhone out of his pocket, unlocked it (3 8 2 5), and opened Spotify. 

“I would assume so, since the movie is.”

He fell quiet, concentrating as he typed. Then, he exclaimed, “It is! Check it out!” And suddenly, the one of the songs was playing through Geoff’s speakers. 

Awsten danced along in the passenger seat, and Geoff smiled over at him. 

 

* * *

**January 1**

Awsten yawned as they walked back into the kitchen. “First time home in 2015,” he announced tiredly. 

_Mrow!_

Awsten perked up considerably. “First Tuna sighting of 2015!” He crouched down on the ground, and the cat padded up to him and rubbed against him. He scooped her up and kissed her all over her head. “Happy New Year, Tuna!” He looked at Geoff. “She doesn’t even know.” 

“No, she doesn’t,” Geoff agreed, but he petted her head and said to her as well, “Happy New Year.” To Awsten, he asked, “Are you off to bed?” 

“Mm-hmm.” 

“Alright. Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight.” He started toward the stairs but then turned back. “Hey… Mr. W?”

“Yes?”

“I… had a lot of fun today.”

“As did I.” 

“Thanks for driving me out there and hanging out with me.” 

“Of course, Awsten. I enjoyed our time together today.” 

“Me, too.” After a moment, he added, “I love you.” 

Geoff gave him a small smile. “And I you.” 

Awsten smiled back and said, “Okay, well - Happy New Year. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” 

Awsten made Tuna’s paw look like it was waving at Geoff, and then he carried her upstairs to his bedroom. As he went, Geoff could hear him playfully singing, "Your fur may be clean and shiny, you stand out a mile, but Tuna, you’re never fully dressed without a smile!"

_Mrooow!_ Tuna replied.

“Sing it, baby girl!”

Geoff chuckled to himself. “That boy,” he sighed aloud, and the fondness in his own tone surprised him. 

Later that night as he got ready for bed, Geoff found himself half-singing along to Annie's final number, which had been stuck on a relentless loop in his head. "I  don't need sunshine now to turn my skies to blue; I don't need anything but you."


	11. January

**January 1**

“I’m so glad 2014 is over,” Awsten sighed as he squeezed an ocean of maple syrup over his second stack of pancakes. “I usually don’t care about that stuff too much, but this has been the longest year of my fucking life. I’m ready to start over.”

“It _was_ a long year, wasn’t it?” Mr. W hummed. 

“Yeah.” Awsten set the syrup down and picked up his fork. “I’ll be nineteen. How old will you be?” 

Mr. W thought for a moment. “Twenty-eight.” 

Awsten’s eyes bugged out. “That’s it?!” 

“Yes,” Mr. W smiled. “Contrary to your belief, I have still not reached my forties. Or even my thirties.” 

“But you look so- I mean…”

He chuckled. “I am aware that I appear to be much older than I am. Since I was about twelve, that has been the case. People began requesting to see my ID around the time that I turned sixteen.” 

“Oh my god, did you drink?!”

“No, no. That never interested me. But I was always being dragged to this country club or that fancy brunch, and there was always alcohol, you see. They would serve it to the table as a whole, and we were to pass it around. The waiters needed to know whether to keep an eye on me, I suppose.” 

“Hmm. When’s your birthday?” 

“July.” 

Awsten’s eyes widened again. “But I came in June!"  Mr. W appeared puzzled, so Awsten explained loudly, "I was here in July! Every day!” 

“Yes.” 

“You didn’t tell me it was your birthday!”

“That would have been a bit rude, I believe. You were still quite upset, and you were skittish enough as it was. Regardless, I do have a habit of keeping the date to myself. I have always enjoyed the fact that my birthday is in the summer because it is never made into a big affair.” 

“What’s the date?” 

 “January first.”

“No, not _today_! Your _birthday_!” Awsten cried exasperatedly. “July, but July what?”

Almost reluctantly, Mr. W told him, “July the second.” 

Awsten paused and did some mental math. July to August, August to September, September to October… And then he nodded, and that was that.

Mr. W stared at him suspiciously. “Awsten?” 

Awsten shrugged one shoulder as he took another bite. “That’s a weird birthday for you.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah. You seem like you’d have a winter birthday. Or at least fall.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know. I feel like people with summer birthdays are a lot crazier. And you’re so… calm.” 

Mr. W chuckled. 

“Did your family call you or send cards and stuff at least? Since I didn’t do anything or even say anything?”

The mood in the room shifted as soon as the words left Awsten’s mouth, but Awsten didn’t take them back. 

“Well… no, I’m afraid not,” Mr. W admitted. 

“Where are they?” 

“Still in California.” 

“Why?” 

“Because that is where the family business is located.” 

“What’s the family business?” 

“Awsten…”

“What is it?”

He sighed and set his fork down. “Steel. For skyscrapers and football stadiums and jet planes. Et cetera.” 

Awsten wrinkled his nose.

“Exactly,” Mr. W nodded. “It is a loud affair. Dull and wasteful and loud. There is money in it - oh, certainly, there is money. But when money is not pleasing or desirable, one tends not to fall in line.” 

“So you left.”

“Yes.”

“Is that why they don’t wish you happy birthday?” 

Mr. W looked away. “It’s… a complicated matter.” 

Awsten stuffed another bite of pancake into his mouth. “You don’t have to tell me,” he said around the food. “Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“Two sisters.” 

“Are they nice?” 

Mr. W thought for a few moments before he responded. Finally, he stated, “I was closer with one than the other.”

“Are they older than you or younger?”

“Both older.”

“Do they talk weird like you?”

Mr. W chuckled. “No.” 

“Do they like to read like you do?”

“One does. One doesn’t.”

“That was a trick question,” Awsten told him. “Nobody likes to read as much as you do.”

Mr. W smiled then. “I suppose that is true.” 

“Hm. Why don’t they come visit?” 

“There have been,” Mr. W said carefully, “a few points of contention among us.” 

“What’s ‘points of contention’?” 

“Matters of intense disagreement.” 

“Oh.” Awsten watched as Mr. W glanced at the stained glass window over the sink and then at the brand new cottage calendar, which was hanging on the pantry door. Hesitantly, Awsten asked, “Did you talk to them after The Incident at school?”

“No. I called my father, but he did not pick up or call back. I do not believe that they know where I work, though, and my father does not have my cell phone number. He likely would have thought it was a spam call.” 

A very upset feeling settled into Awsten’s chest. 

Mr. W must have noticed the change in his demeanor, because he said kindly, “It is quite alright.” 

“No,” Awsten protested, his voice small. “That’s so fucked up. I don’t care what happened; you’re the second-nicest person I know. You don’t deserve for your family to be like that.” 

Mr. W smiled sadly. “Awsten, it really is nothing to worry about. Things have been this way for a long time.”

“And that’s even worse! Like, what the hell?! Mom and her family don’t talk either, and you guys are the nicest, best people I’ve ever met!” 

If that information about Mrs. Wood was news to Mr. W, he didn’t show it. “It is none of your concern,” Mr. W told him warmly. “Shall we talk about something else?” 

“Yeah, I’ve got a bird question,” Awsten said crabbily. He stabbed angrily at a pancake. 

“Alright.” Mr. W sat up a little straighter. 

“Which is bluer: a bluebird or a bluejay?”

“Ah,” Mr. W said with a smile, and he got up to get his favorite birdwatching book from a cabinet near the window.

“And,” Awsten added, “what makes them blue?” 

“Now _those_ are questions that I can answer.” 

 

* * *

 

“What are all these boxes, anyway?” Awsten asked a little while later, lightly kicking at one as he passed. 

“ _Careful_ , please,” Geoff chastised. “Some of the contents are fragile.”

“Oh. Sorry. But what are they?” 

“One moment, Awsten,” Geoff replied. He could hardly see around the massive box of ornaments he was carrying, Tuna was somewhere at his heels, and it was so dark in the basement that it was all he could do not to bump into something and fall. When he finally got to a clear place to set the ornaments down, he did so carefully. Awsten, on the other hand, dropped the bag of Christmas lights onto the floor so carelessly that Geoff expected a quarter of them to have broken on impact. He bit his tongue and instead elected to find a light switch. 

Once he did, the main section of the room lit up, and Awsten looked around at the sea of boxes. “What’s in this one?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the one nearest the spot Geoff had set the box of ornaments. It wasn’t taped shut, so he reached inside. 

“That-” Geoff began, but it was too late. 

Awsten pulled out a large snow globe. “Ooh!” Vigorously, he shook it.

“Please be gentle,” Geoff told him, going over and taking it out of his hands. He set it back in the box just in time to stop Tuna from hopping in, earning him a grumpy look from the little cat.

Awsten reached back in and pulled it right out. “It’s a princess?” he asked, trying to see through the mess of swirling snow he’d created.

Happily, Tuna launched into the cardboard cube.

“Not a princess; the Sugar Plum Fairy. And it is fragile and sentimental, so if you would please-”

“If she’s a fairy, why doesn’t she have wings? And why does she have ballet shoes on? Is she from a book?” 

Geoff turned to look at him. “You have never seen The Nutcracker, have you?” he asked. 

Awsten shrugged. 

“The Nutcracker is an incredibly famous ballet. The Sugar Plum Fairy is the prima ballerina; the highest-ranked dancer in the production.” 

“Okay. But why do you have this?” he asked, looking down at the glass in his hands. 

He was unknowingly leaving fingerprints all over it. 

Geoff closed his eyes. Then he opened them and asked, “How are you always so full of questions?” 

“Because you don’t tell me anything!” 

Geoff shot him a light glare. “I tell you many things.” 

“Well, what’s in that box, then?” Awsten asked, pointing to a random one across the room. 

“Paperwork, most likely.” 

“What about that one?” 

“I do not know. Perhaps clothes.” 

“Whose clothes?” 

Geoff sighed. “Awsten, these are mostly my grandmother’s old things. I did not know what to do with them when she passed away, so I packaged them up and brought them downstairs so that they would be out of the way, and now here they are.” 

“Oh.” He looked back down at the snow globe. “Is this hers?”

“No. It is mine.”

“Well why’s it down here?”

Geoff wasn’t going to answer, but then Awsten looked up at him, and the innocence of the curiosity in his eyes made Geoff sigh. “Clara Rose performed the part of the Sugar Plum Fairy in her dance school’s production of The Nutcracker.” 

“She was the best dancer?” 

“Yes. She was quite talented. She became the company’s principal dancer during our senior year of high school.” 

“I didn’t know she was a ballerina,” Awsten commented. The snow had started to slow down, so he gave the globe another rough shake.

Geoff tried to suppress a wince. “There is much that you do not know. I have hardly spoken of her, and she was an entire person.” 

“As opposed to part of a person?” Awsten teased. 

Geoff pursed his lips. “That is enough,” he decided, and he gently removed the fragile toy from Awsten’s hands. He lifted Tuna with one hand and slipped the snow globe back into its box with the other. Then he closed the flaps. 

“Will you play it for me?” Awsten asked, bouncing a little. 

“Pardon me?” 

“The songs. Will you play me the songs?” 

“From The Nutcracker?” 

“Yeah. I’ve heard them before, I think, but I don’t really remember.” 

“No, but you may find them on your own.” 

“Why not?”

“Christmas is over, Awsten.”

“But I just-!”

Snappishly, Geoff told him, “It is like the piano, Awsten. Some memories are more painful than pleasant.” 

Awsten fell silent. 

“Now. Shall we go upstairs?” 

“Sorry,” Awsten whispered, his eyes on the floor. 

“Thank you.” Then he repeated, “Shall we go upstairs?”

Awsten nodded.

Geoff turned the light off, and the basement was plunged back into darkness. 

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Mom?” Awsten asked when Otto had gone to the bathroom. It was just the two of them in the kitchen; she was by the refrigerator making a snack, and he was sitting in one of the tall chairs at the counter, just like so many times before.

“Yes, honey?” 

“Is it okay if I ask you some questions?” 

She glanced confusedly over her shoulder. “Of course.”

“Okay. Thanks. Um, when did you tell Mr. W about how I like Annie?” 

“Hmm,” she said, turning to face him. She looked a little puzzled. “I don’t know if I ever did.”

“Well, he knew,” Awsten said. She passed him a cheese cube, and he popped it into his mouth. As he chewed, he added, “And he said you told him about how I liked the songs from it.” 

A strange expression crossed her face, and she looked… guilty.

“What?”

“Honey… I didn’t actually tell Mr. W that you liked Annie. I told a _courtroom_ that you liked Annie. And he happened to be there.” 

“Oh,” he murmured. “You were testifying?”

“Yes.”

“About my dad?”

“About both of your parents, sweetie.”

He nodded. “And Mr. W was there?”

“Yes. They called him as a witness because he was the one who made the report, and he wanted to testify on your behalf.” 

“Oh,” Awsten whispered again. Then, quietly, he said, “Thank you for not lying to me.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” 

He was quiet for a moment, trying to suppress his next inquiry as he watched her rhythmically press the knife through the cheese, but his curiosity got the better of him. “Why did you tell them about Annie?”

She smiled at him sadly. “Do you remember when you asked me if you could be an orphan?” 

Awsten blinked in surprise. 

She read his expression and continued. “You did. You were in second grade, and the movie had just finished for the hundredth time, and you said something to me like, ‘Why can’t I be an orphan and get adopted, too?’ You were very serious and wanted to know if there was a way for you to become an orphan without your parents being killed. And I tried my best to explain it to you, but you just wanted a nice family, honey. That’s what you were really asking for.” She came around the counter and kissed his temple. “Oh, my baby,” she murmured. “I always wished I could do more for you. I’m so sorry.” 

“You did everything, Mom.” 

“I tried to,” she whispered, and Awsten looked at her. He could see that her eyes were dangerously close to getting misty.

“You did,” he insisted. “You’re the best, nicest lady in the whole world.” 

She laughed and squeezed him to her chest. “My sweetheart.” 

“I love you,” he said, closing his eyes. 

“I love you, too, baby. And that’s exactly why I told them. Honey, I know that was private, and it happened in our home a long time ago, but I just kept picturing your little face and hearing your little six, seven, eight year old voice in my head singing _Maybe_ like you really meant it, like you really did have a different set of parents out there that you were waiting for and dreaming about-” Her voice caught, and he hugged her tightly. 

_I have a different set of parents now,_ he thought to himself. But what he said was, “I have you.” 

“Yes, you do.” She kissed his hair and then his cheek, and then she straightened up and went to finish cutting up the cheese cubes and the fruit. 

Even though it was cheesy as hell, he told her, “You’re the best mom ever.” 

Just then, Otto came around the corner. “Yeah, you are,” he agreed. To Awsten, he asked, “Why is she the best today?” 

Mrs. Wood smiled at the two of them like they were the only people who mattered in the world.

 

* * *

 

Awsten had been at Otto’s house for nearly three hours when Geoff decided to send him a text message. 

_I am sorry that I was so short with you_ , he typed into the text box. He stared at the words for several seconds and then he pressed the backspace until they were all gone. 

_Hello. I know that we-_

Delete. 

When he was angry with others - John or his family - he stayed angry. There was no apology, no forgiveness, and certainly no forgetting. He could move on, but he did not apologize. This time, however… Awsten had merely been curious. His questions may have been overstepping and insistent and a bit rude, but he hadn’t meant any harm. 

Geoff sighed and began again. 

_I know that you were merely curious this afternoon. You are right; I do keep secrets from you._

“No, no, no,” Geoff muttered, and he selected all of the words and deleted them as well. He looked over at the cat ears he could see peeking up over the table. “Tuna, what am I to say to him? I haven’t done anything wrong.” 

_Mrow!_

He sighed and set the phone down. “Well, I cannot merely say ‘meow,’ but thank you for the suggestion.” 

Just then, Geoff’s phone lit up. He glanced down at it, thinking perhaps it would be Mary, but it was not. It was a message from Awsten.

_I know your mad at me but can you send me a picture of Tuna cause I miss her_

Geoff looked down at the words for a few seconds and then picked up the phone again. _I am not angry,_ he wrote. _We can discuss things when you return home._

He went around the table, took a picture of Tuna sitting on her favorite chair, and then sent both the words and the photograph to Awsten.  A few seconds later, he received a reply. 

_Ok thanks  
_ _Tell her she’s cute_

Geoff sighed. He went back to his chair and sat down, feeling the anxiety-inducing feeling of having nothing to do. Nothing to read, nothing worth writing about, nothing to grade, no tests or essay prompts to create… It was even too rainy for a walk. 

And then the phone rang.

Awsten.

“Hello?”

“Look, can we do this right now? I really don’t wanna fight with you. Especially over something stupid like that. Not - not that what I did was stupid, cause it wasn’t! But I feel like shit, and I think you do, too - or at least, you did before - and it’s my fault, and I’m really sorry.”

“Awsten-”

“I’ll make dinner if you want, and I’ll do all the dishes after. Or I can clean for you; do you need me to clean anything? I’ll clean whatever you want.” 

“Awsten, please stop.” 

Miraculously, he did.

“You needn’t do anything. You messaged me while I was attempting to settle on a way to word _my_ apology to _you_.” 

Awsten was quiet. 

“We were both wrong,” Geoff told him. 

Awsten’s reply was a whisper. “Yeah.” 

“Next time, I will be more patient.” 

“And next time, I’ll shut the fuck up when you tell me to.” 

“And please not touch my things without permission,” Geoff added.

“And not touch your things without permission.” 

Geoff nodded. “That sounds fair to me.” 

There was a pause. Then Awsten asked, “You’re really not mad?”

“I am not.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” 

He exhaled heavily in relief. “Okay, _good._ ” 

There was a pause, so Geoff wondered, “Will you be staying at the Woods’ for dinner, or will you return home?”

“I don’t know yet. What do you want me to do?” 

“It is your choice.” 

There was some whispering that Geoff couldn’t decipher, and then Awsten said, his tone a little strange, “You deserve a break! I’ll stay here, and you can eat whatever you want there. I’ll talk to you later! Bye!”

Before Geoff could get another word in, the line went dead. Geoff looked at Tuna. “Well,” he said. He felt a hint of disappointment at the fact that he would be alone for several more hours with nothing to do. The performing arts center would not have any shows to see on New Year’s Day, and the local museum would be closed, but perhaps he could drive back to Houston to see another movie.

 

* * *

 

**January 2**

The door closed, and Rian asked, “How was your holiday?” 

“Good, actually,” Awsten answered, smiling a bit. He tucked his hands into the pockets of the coat Mr. W had bought him shortly after the forest fiasco.  
  
“Yeah? Take a seat and tell me about it.”

Awsten obeyed, filling his normal spot on the couch. He reached back and pulled the throw blanket down onto his lap.

“Are you cold?” Rian asked. 

Awsten nodded. 

“Did you just come in from outside?” 

“Uh, no. I’ve been waiting inside for a little bit.” 

Rian jotted that down. 

“Anyway, Christmas - I got good presents for everybody cause I’ve been saving my money,” Awsten said immediately. 

“That’s great, Awsten. Like what?” 

“Well, I got Mr. W this cool Harry Potter mug and some DVDs, and I got this huge bouquet of flowers for Mom and wrote her a letter, and I got Otto some food gift cards and an aux cord for his car since he still doesn’t have one.” 

“That sounds awesome.” 

“Yeah. It was really cool to be with them and feel like they… like I was really a part of everything, I guess. And Mr. W, too.” 

“You exchanged the gifts at his house, correct?” 

“Yeah. We were there all day, so we had breakfast, lunch, and dinner there, too. And he actually brought me here today.”

Rian’s eyebrows rose. “He did?” 

“Yeah. I told him I’d missed a bunch of sessions since I was biking here or just not coming at all, and he was pretty upset and said something about how this is ‘paramount to my recovery’ or something and that I shouldn’t be missing any of it.”

Rian nodded. “He’s right.”

“Yeah, maybe, but it’s kinda hard to believe him since Otto’s in like, five therapies now, and I literally lived in a group home and now I’m in this one, but he’s not in any.” 

“That you know of,” Rian pointed out. “We can’t ever know everything about a person.”

“Yeah… he does disappear for a while sometimes,” Awsten said thoughtfully. 

“We can’t assume he’s in therapy at those times,” Rian stated, “but we also can’t assume that he’s not.”

“Yeah.”

Rian glanced at his notes. “Did you do alright with the New Years’ fireworks?” 

“Yeah. Me and Mr. W sat in his car outside the little ice cream place with the music turned up so we couldn’t hear them.” 

“The ice cream place - is that the same one he took you to in the summer?” 

“Yeah, for Fourth of July. We went to the movie theater first this time. That was my idea.” 

Rian smiled. “What did you see?”

“That new Annie movie.”

“Ah. Was it good?”

“Yeah. I’ve been listening to the soundtrack for two straight days. I think Mr. W is already kind of sick of it, but I’m just getting started.” 

Rian chuckled.

“Is it weird that he’s my best friend other than Otto?” Awsten asked. 

"Mr. W?"

He swallowed and then nodded. 

“Do _you_ think it’s weird?”

“Um… Sometimes, I guess. But not others.” 

“What times does it seem strange?” 

“Usually when I’m around other people. He looks way older than me. And if we’re around people we know, it’s extra weird. Like at Carson’s. Mr. Carson - that’s the grocery store owner.”

“Yes, I remember.” 

“I don’t know how you keep track of all this,” Awsten told him, shaking his head. He thought back to the first therapist he’d visited, who had estimated that he counseled about a hundred teenagers each week. 

“I pay attention,” Rian said with a shrug, “and I write down as much as I can. That helps a lot. But tell me about Carson’s.” 

“Oh, yeah. Mr. Carson knows that I live with Mr. W, and I guess people have been kind of slowly figuring it out - like, Maddie from work knows, so that means Liv probably knows since they’re twins, and that means that other kids at school probably know. And that means that other teachers have probably heard, so their families probably know… But I don’t think anybody’s said anything to him about it. Nobody says anything to me about it.” 

“Well, it sounds like most of those people if not all of them know what kind of person Mr. W is. Someone’s character says a lot about them.”

“Yeah.” Awsten sighed. He fell quiet, and Rian allowed a long silence, which - for once - Awsten was grateful for. Finally, Awsten asked, “Can I say some weird stuff?”

“Go for it.” 

“I… love him. Like, a lot. And I want him to be my dad.” 

Rian nodded slowly. 

“I know he’s not,” Awsten hurried to add. “But it’s just - we keep getting into these situations where he’s like… I don’t know. Like a dad! Like, he tells me to quiet down if I’m talking too loud, or we make dinner together and we eat at the actual dinner table and it feels like a family thing, or he texts me dumb questions about Snapchat or Instagram or whatever and asks me what ‘on fleek’ means. A couple weeks ago, he was like, ‘I cannot stand it one moment longer. Who in the world is Felicia?!’” 

Rian chuckled.

“See?! I played dumb and made him explain it, and he was imitating the freshman in his last period class saying, ‘Bye, Felicia!’ and it was the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. He kept doing this dumb wave while he was talking… oh my god.

“I know he’s pretty young, and I know he probably doesn’t feel the same way as me cause he’s told me before that he doesn’t like kids or want any, but I’m not a little kid. I’m technically a grownup, and I probably won’t be around his house that much longer cause I have to move out at some point, and I don’t know. I was talking to somebody who said that maybe God puts good stuff into your life so you can take it and it can be yours. And I know it’s stupid, but I really fucking want this.”

“Awsten, you don’t need to defend yourself to me.” 

Awsten blinked. “What?” 

“You keep saying ‘I know’ this, and ‘but’ that, but none of that matters. You feel the way you feel. You see him as a father. I think it would be hard for you not to look at him that way given your living situation alone. And he’s kind to you and spends time with you and provides for you…”

“And he reads to me. Every fucking night.” Quietly, he muttered, “It kills me sometimes.”

“What do you mean?” 

“It was all I wanted when I was a kid - for my parents to be around and care about me and play with me and read to me. And he’s there, and he does all that. We sat in the kitchen last week making fucking gingerbread men. He didn’t care that I spent twenty minutes getting one of them just right. I know that annoys some people, but he was patient. He said he wanted me to make it the way I wanted it to be. And he asks about work, and he’s not just doing it to be polite; he really actually cares how it went while I sat in the frozen yogurt place by myself. And he drove me here today. The second he got done with school, he came home to pick me up, and we came straight here. He didn’t even change clothes or get a snack or anything.” 

“You are important to him,” Rian observed.

“I know.” 

As soon as the words came out, he wanted to reach into the air, catch them, and stuff them back into his mouth. He didn’t want that to be something that he knew. He didn’t even want that to be something that existed.

“Why are you making that face?” Rian asked him.

Awsten shrugged. Suddenly, it felt very difficult to sit still. It felt even harder not to get emotional. 

“Awsten.” 

“Me and him had another argument yesterday,” Awsten said softly, starting down at the carpet as he spoke. “It was really short, cause we both just wanted to apologize to each other. I’ve never had that before. Even with Otto and Mom, everything’s really drawn out and dramatic and, like. I don’t know. I know you want me to work on not running away, but I did - sorry. I went to Otto’s, but I kept staring at my phone and wondering whether or not I should text him. So I did, eventually, and he texted right back, and then I called him. He just wanted to forgive and forget and move on, like he did when I ran away for real. I love that about him.” 

He swallowed thickly. “Maybe it’s wrong to say all this shit, but I can’t tell anybody else.” He felt his chest tighten, and he looked up at Rian. “I love him. I know it’s weird, and I know it’s like, stupid and probably inappropriate or whatever, and it actually really fucking scares me,” he confessed, his voice breaking a little, “but I love him so much.” 

“Awsten…”

“I’m sorry,” he said, swiping at his eyes. “I know. It’s dumb. I just can’t tell anybody else.”

“It’s not dumb. You’re entitled to your feelings.”

“I shouldn’t be having these. He’s not my dad.”

“Whether you believe you should or shouldn’t, Awsten, you can feel however you feel. There is nothing wrong with that.”

Awsten rolled his eyes, which Rian elected to ignore.

“Have you told Mr. W about these emotions you’ve been having?” 

“Yeah. I said ‘I love you’ to him like maybe two months ago.”

“And what did he say?” 

“Most of the time, he doesn’t say anything, but he smiles at me, so I know he heard me.”

“And the other times?” 

Awkwardly, Awsten explained, “He says, um. ‘And I you.’ So, it’s like, ‘I love you.’ ‘And I you.’” 

“Ah.”

“I told you he’s old fashioned.” 

“How often do you tell him that you love him?”

“Oh, not a lot. Maybe like… maybe three or four times ever? I know I said it at his house once, and at the hospital once, and I told him when we got home on New Year’s.” 

“Okay, so it’s not an every day thing.” 

Awsten shook his head. _But what if it was? Would that be fucked up?_  The feeling came over him every few days. Would it be so terrible if he shared it out loud? His chest tightened again, this time uncomfortably.

“Am I like…” He looked at Rian, lost for words. _Messed up? Gross?_

“You are _fine_ , Awsten. This is fine. It’s okay to feel this.” 

“He’s the only person who makes me feel safe,” he confessed, his hand pressing flat over his ribs. 

Rian looked at him, his eyes darting around Awsten’s face and body, taking in the signs. 

Awsten tried to relax, but it wasn’t working. 

“Awsten, are you having trouble breathing?” Rian asked calmly.

“No,” Awsten lied.

“Could you recite the alphabet for me?”

“No,” Awsten whispered without even trying.

“You don’t need to sing it; just say it. From the beginning, please.”

A little frantically, Awsten shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Alright.” Rian easily set his notepad aside. “Let’s pause for a second.”

Awsten nodded, but even with the knowledge that everything was going to stop, the pressure around his lungs didn’t let up. He pulled in a little gasp.

“Deep breaths,” Rian said, his gaze on his client. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. You’re having an anxiety attack, but you’re going to be okay.”

“A what?” Awsten asked breathlessly, although he’d heard Rian loud and clear.

“An anxiety attack,” Rian repeated. “It’s okay. It’ll pass in a little bit.” 

“I’m fine, I just can’t - _breathe_ , I - I haven’t been riding my bike so much this week, and I need to-”

That pulled a gentle laugh out of the therapist. “Awsten, exercise won’t help this. It’s okay. Can you count for me? Let’s go backwards from a hundred, okay? So a hundred… ninety-nine…”

“Ninety-eight,” Awsten said, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Ninety-seven. Ninety-six.” 

He kept going, counting and counting and counting until he was at seventy and then fifty-four and then twenty-eight, and by the time he got to twenty, he was breathing normally.

“Excellent,” Rian praised. “Good, Awsten. You can stop. That was great.” 

“I fucking hated that,” Awsten stated, still a little dazed. 

“I know. They’re awful.” 

Awsten looked at the therapist. “Do you get them?”

“I had one once,” Rian admitted. 

“Wh-why don’t you call them panic attacks?” 

“Panic attacks are different; they come out of nowhere. Anxiety attacks are… anxiety attacks have a clearer and more immediate cause.” He waited a few seconds and then asked, “Why do you think talking about this made you so anxious?” 

“Cause it’s fucking scary,” Awsten responded softly.

“What about it is scary?”

He shrugged. 

_The transparency he’d just shown to Rian. The amount of trust he’d built with Mr. W over the past six months. The fear of what could go wrong if Awsten was clear about how he felt. The fact that he’d admitted the feelings out loud for the first time. The fact that he’d even just put them into words at all. And the fear that now that he had, someone would rip Mr. W away from him._

“I don’t know.” 

Rian hummed, and Awsten could tell that he was going to let it go. 

“Okay. Do you want to keep talking about this, or are you ready to take a break?”

“No, I want to say, um… I called him Dad.”

“Directly to him?”

Awsten nodded.

“Wow. Okay. Tell me about that. When was it?”

“Two weeks ago, I think.” 

“How did it go?”

“He didn’t react. I think it freaked him out a little, but he didn’t tell me not to do it again.” 

“What was the situation?” 

“He was zoned out at the stove, and I called him like four times, but he didn’t hear me. Like, 'Mr. W?' 'Mr. W?'”

“So you called him Dad?”

“Yeah. And let me say, he definitely fucking heard it.”

“Have you done it again?”

Awsten shook his head.

“Why?” 

“Cause… I don’t know. I don’t know. But he knows I want him to be my dad, and he knows that I think of him kind of like a dad.”

“How does he know?”

“Cause I told him in the hospital. And again at Thanksgiving.” He swallowed nervously as he felt his chest began to tighten again. “And I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Okay. Will you let me ask you one question?” 

“You can ask it,” Awsten said, taking a page out of Mr. W’s book, “but I might not answer.”

“Fair enough. My question is, why do you think talking about this pulled so much more emotion out of you than talking about The Incident at school?”

“Because that’s not real, and this is.”

Rian blinked. He was quiet for several seconds, and Awsten could see that he was thinking. Then he asked, “Can you elaborate on that for me?” 

“What happened at school… it’s not real. But this is real.” 

Rian nodded, and he made a brief note on his paper. “One more question,” Rian said.

“Yeah?”

“Was what happened at school ever real?”

Awsten swallowed. “Once.”

“When was that?”

“Like a week before I left Peace and Purpose.” 

“And why was it real then?”

“I don’t know.”

“How do you know it was real?”

“Cause I just… I could feel it.” 

“What do you mean by that?"  


“Like, it hit me, kind of, I guess.”

“And how did you cope?”

Awsten grimaced. “I didn’t. I woke Lucas up, and he sat with me while I cried like a bitch in the office for like forty minutes.”

“So it was a big deal.” 

He nodded.

“Okay. Thanks, Awsten. I’m not gonna ask you to talk about it anymore today if you don’t want to, but we need to soon.” 

“Kay.”

Rian resumed writing, this time for much longer.

Awsten sat mostly still while he waited, fidgeting with the tassels of the blanket, which was still in his lap. 

“Okay,” Rian said when he was done. “What do you want to talk about now? Do you want to tell me more about your Christmas?”

Awsten shrugged. “Sure.”

 

* * *

 

“I’ll see you next week,” a male voice said as Awsten reappeared.

“Yep.” The teenager was unwrapping a fun size candy bar and not looking at whoever was speaking to him. 

“Good work today.” The man was trailing behind him, and when Awsten looked up and smiled at Geoff, he came into view as well. 

Geoff was shocked; he recognized him instantly. 

The man behind Awsten had been one of the people who had been in and out of the ICU waiting room downstairs. He had come in with the group to stand around Awsten’s bed and pray. Geoff had thought it insensitive to ask Lucas or Mrs. Wood who he was, even though they clearly knew him. And here he was again: Awsten’s therapist.

Geoff stood, half out of shock, and went up to shake the man’s hand. “Geoff Wigington,” he said quietly.

“Yes, I recognize you. I’m Rian Dawson.”

“It is nice to officially meet you. I apologize for not introducing myself before.” 

“No, I understand. It was kind of a strange time.” 

Geoff noticed Awsten looking between them nervously. “Thank you for the work that you do,” Geoff said to Rian with a slightly awkward nod. Then to Awsten, he asked, “Shall we return home now?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Very well.” He nodded toward Rian. “It was nice to make your acquaintance.” 

Rian briefly smiled at Awsten and then said to Geoff, “Yours as well. Awsten - next week.”

“Yep. Bye.”

And they were off toward the car. Awsten was uncharacteristically quiet, even after they’d been driving for a while, so Geoff prompted, “Would you like to put on some music?” 

“Um, okay.”

After a moment of Awsten pressing buttons on both the car and his iPhone, the Annie soundtrack, which Geoff had heard all the way through about seven times in two days, began to play. It did loosen Awsten up considerably, and soon, he was smiling and dancing and singing. And not just singing along under his breath like usual, but singing in the way he had sung when Geoff had found him passionately playing the piano with his eyes closed. He sang effortlessly, his voice strong and clear and free. 

Geoff was silent, just listening. He almost missed a turn at one point because he was so distracted by Awsten’s perfect passenger seat performance of Tomorrow.

“Don’t forget we’re going to Otto’s, not home,” Awsten reminded when another song ended a few moments later.

The contrast between his speaking voice and his singing voice was so jarring that Geoff actually turned to look at him for a few seconds before he managed a reply. “Oh, yes. Yes, I recall.” 

“Okay.” 

Soon, they were at the Woods’ home, and Geoff pulled into the driveway to drop Awsten off. 

“No, you have to come in!” Awsten urged. “Come on! Mom will want to see you.”

“Awsten, I was not invited-”

“You’re always invited! Come on, it’ll just take a second, and then you can go make your stinky tea and read a dictionary. Please?” He looked at Geoff hopefully.

Mary opened the front door then, and upon seeing both of them, waved excitedly. “Come on in, boys!” she called.

“There, see?” Awsten exclaimed. “Come on!” 

“Just for a moment,” Geoff said to Awsten. “I must return home to Tuna soon.”

Awsten darted up to the house, threw his arms around his mother, kissed her cheek, and then quickly disappeared inside. Geoff followed him to the door much more slowly, but Mrs. Wood didn’t seem to mind. 

“Hi, baby,” she said happily, leaning forward to embrace him.

He closed his eyes the way he had started to lately when she hugged him. He missed having a mother. He wondered what his life would be like had his own mother never developed cancer. (Certainly not like this.)

“Come on in. Do you want something to drink? I was just about to start on some sweet tea!” 

“Oh, no, thank you. I really should be getting home-”

“Oh, honey, I insist!” 

She was so kind, but internally, Geoff winced. He trailed after her into the kitchen, where Mr. Wood was sitting, studying blueprints for something.

“Geoff! Just the man I wanted to see,” he said with far too much enthusiasm. “Say, would you come look at this for me?”

“I forgot the, um-!” Mrs. Wood said suddenly, snapping her fingers and rushing out of the room.

Geoff stared in the direction she’d gone, but soon, Mr. Wood had his attention again. 

“Awsten was asking me about putting one of those little birdhouse libraries up in town.” 

“Oh!” Geoff said, and suddenly he was glad he’d come in. “A Little Free Library?” 

“Yes, that’s the one! Would you look at this for me and tell me if you think it’d be okay? Awsten asked, and I just drew this up on the computer, you know, but I don’t know if you think it’d be big enough.” 

They talked for several minutes about the size, about how many people might use it, about being sure children had some way to reach it, and about where in town it would be placed. By the time the conversation had come to a point where both Mr. Wood and Geoff felt confident that the Little Library could be a success, nearly twenty-five minutes had passed. 

“Goodness gracious, I should get going,” Geoff declared as he looked at the clock. “I apologize; I only meant to come in for a moment. It is past time for me to feed my cat.”

“That’s alright, son,” Mr. Wood said, patting his shoulder. “We’re happy to have you any time. You always take good care of my boy. Both of those boys.” 

“It is my pleasure,” Geoff assured him on his way to the front door. 

“Welllll,” Mr. Wood continued, hurrying after him, but before he could say anything else, something dawned on Geoff, and he turned back.

“Mary never returned.”

“What?” Mr. Wood asked, eyes wide. 

“She went to get something for the tea, but she never came back.”

“Oh, hah, you're right aren't you? Well, I... I’m sure she just got distracted upstairs,” Mr. Wood invented, waving him off.

“What if something has happened?” Geoff inquired worriedly. “What if she is injured?” 

“Or maybe she walked to the store.” He lit up. “Hey, we could walk to the store to look for her! The _general_ store!” But just then, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He slid it out and looked at the screen. “Would you look at that,” he said strangely. “That’s her just now. She says she’s on her way home!” With a relieved look, he smiled at Geoff.

“Oh,” Geoff said slowly. Something about the whole situation was odd and uncomfortable. Geoff had seen Mr. Wood smile a total of perhaps five times, but right then, he couldn’t seem to stop. “Best of luck to you with the library.” 

“Thanks, Geoff. Have - I mean, uh. Uh. Good evening!” 

“Good evening,” Geoff repeated as he went to his car. He backed down the driveway and drove a ways down the street before pulling off to the side of the narrow road to send a text message to Awsten. 

_David is acting quite strangely. Do you know whether Mary is alright?_

_Yeah he’s fine, me Otto and mom are all hanging out. She says sorry about the sweet tea and she’ll make you some for real next time_

_Alright. I will be at home. Please call if you need anything. David was making me a bit nervous._

_I’m sure he’s fine but ok_

Geoff pulled back onto the road and drove home, ready to see Tuna and make some pea soup. He parked his car in the garage and walked into the kitchen.  “Tuna?” he called. 

There was no response, not even a distant meow. 

Geoff hooked his keys on the hanger, shed his coat, and walked further inside. “Tuna?” he asked again. He took a few more steps, and then suddenly the lights flicked on by themselves. 

 

**_“SURPRISE!”_ **

 

Geoff gasped and stumbled backwards.

A camera flashed brightly in his eyes, blinding him. Confetti was flying everywhere. Thankfully, he processed the scene in front of him rather quickly, because had it taken him any longer, he might have instinctually hit Miss Sara in the face. 

It seemed that several people had been hiding behind the island in his kitchen, waiting for him to come home so that they could pop out and terrify him. There were light blue balloons in their hands and bright blue party hats on their heads, and all of them were cheering and laughing.

Tuna, who had run over to him as if to say _Save me!,_ was decorated as well. She had on a cat shirt that had rainbow streamers printed on it and read in bold, yellow letters, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Geoff scooped her up, and she burrowed as deeply as she could into his neck. He stroked her t-shirt-covered back, still trying to wrap his head around what was going on. Before Geoff could say anything or ask what in the world everyone had been doing in his home while he'd been out, Awsten started conducting a loud chorus of voices.

_Happy birthday to you!_

_Happy birthday to you!_  


The name part was a little bungled; some of the singers chose to fill in the blank with “Geoff” while others chose “Mr. W,” and Geoff could have sworn that someone had sung “Travis.” 

The song ended and there was more applause, and Geoff still had no idea what to say. 

“We got you good, didn’t we?” Awsten asked proudly.

“Y-yes,” Geoff managed to get out. 

_Mrow,_ Tuna agreed, still frightened - presumably by the strangers, or perhaps all of the noise.

Awsten bounded forward for a hug while, in the background, Mary was saying something about cake and ice cream. 

“Awsten,” Geoff whispered as he was hugged, both of his own hands still on the cat, “you do realize that today is not my birthday. My birthday is not for…”

“Six months,” Awsten answered, “ _duh_.”

Geoff looked at him, puzzled.

“Dude. It’s your half birthday today! You’re twenty-seven and a half!” 

And sure enough, there on the counter appeared a pink, three-layer cake that had been iced in Mrs. Wood’s neat writing to say, _Happy 27 ½ Birthday Geoff!_

“Oh, goodness,” Geoff murmured. “It is my half birthday, isn’t it?” 

“It is!” Awsten confirmed happily. 

“My turn, my turn!” came a voice, and suddenly, there was another person hugging Geoff. Awsten laughed and let go, and Geoff looked down and noticed Travis. 

“Oh, hello!” Geoff told him. He handed Tuna to Awsten so that he could properly hug one of his favorite teenagers. “How have you been, Travis?” 

“Good! Happy half birthday!” 

“Why, thank you.” 

“Awsten’s mama made you a pink cake! I got a pink cake for my birthday, too, but mine was pinker.”

“I am certain that it was.”

Awsten smiled brightly at the exchange. 

“I brought you a present,” Travis told him, pulling back. “It’s a book.” 

“A book? Well, thank you very much! I cannot wait to read it.”

“Me and my mama picked it out for you off of Awsten’s list of your list!”

Geoff gave Awsten a confused look, and Awsten mouthed, _Goodreads._

_“_ She’s here,” Travis continued, “and my Benny is here! You wanna meet him?” 

“Oh, I would love to.” 

Geoff was grateful that everyone seemed to be patient while he had greeted Awsten and Travis. The guests (could he even call them that? It was his party, although he hadn’t technically invited anyone) parted so that Travis could pull Geoff over toward the living room. Awsten followed behind them after he passed Tuna to Otto. 

“This,” Travis announced proudly, “is my mama!”

“Hello!” greeted the blonde woman Geoff had met in the hallway at the hospital. 

“Leslie, correct?” Geoff asked, although he knew that he remembered her name.

“Yes!” she said happily. “Happy half birthday!”

His cheeks reddened a bit. This whole affair was very embarrassing. “Thank you.” 

“What a wonderful family you’ve got here to pull this together for you so quickly!” 

“Yes, they... they are surely something.” 

“This!” Travis stated, wanting the focus back on what he was trying to say, “Is my Benny!” 

“Why hello, Benny,” Geoff said, although he wasn’t exactly sure how to proceed. Standing in front of him was a man (Geoff could not identify his age just by looking, but he was definitely an adult) with Down Syndrome. He had on a bright orange polo shirt and berry-colored tennis shoes, and he smiled at Geoff and stuck his hand out. 

“Hello, Mr. W!” Benny replied. 

“It is very nice to meet you,” Geoff said politely. He shook Benny’s small hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, too. You have a very big house!” 

Geoff smiled. “Thank you.”

“You have,” he continued, “a very big yard!” 

“Hey, Benny,” Awsten said, “do you wanna go outside in a little bit?” 

Benny nodded vigorously.

“Okay. After you have cake and ice cream, me and you and Travis can go play out there if you want.” 

“Yes, yes, yes,” Benny said, still rapidly nodding. 

“Sounds like a plan!” Leslie said. She gave Geoff another smile. “Thank you very much. When Awsten called to invite us, Travis was ecstatic. He said we just _had_ to come, so here we are.”

“Oh,” Geoff said, feeling flustered again. 

“He wanted to bring you one of our goats as part of your gift, but I told him I didn’t think you’d like that very much.”

“ _I’d_ like that very much,” Awsten muttered.

“We have no place here for a goat,” Geoff told him amiably, and he smiled at Leslie. “Thank you for considering that.” 

“Mama?” Travis asked, tugging at her shirt. She turned to her two boys, and Awsten gave Geoff a little push toward the rest of the room.

Most everyone had gotten a plate and some plastic silverware by then, and Mr. Wood, it seemed, had let himself in through the front door. Geoff walked into the small crowd, and Mary cheerfully called to him, “Here, honey, have some cake!” 

Just as she handed him a slice (french vanilla cake with strawberry icing), a gentle fist bumped into his upper arm. “Hey, birthday boy.” 

Geoff turned. “Zakk,” he nodded, and then he was pulled into yet another hug. 

“Hey,” Zakk repeated with a smile. “Happy half birthday!”

Geoff smiled back. “Thank you very much. I did not even know it was my half-birthday until a few moments ago when Awsten explained what everyone was doing in my home.” 

Zakk laughed. “Aw, well, any excuse to celebrate, right? It’s good to see you, man.”

“You, as well.” 

“Yeah. Listen, I gotta tell you - I may have accidentally blown your secret.”

Geoff blinked.

“Awsten called to ask if Lucas and I could come, and he said something like, ‘Do you remember Mr. W?’ and I said, ‘Remember him? I see him every week!’” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah. I’m sorry, man. It all just kinda happened fast, and I was excited, and sometimes when I get excited, I get a little dumb…”

“No, it is alright,” Geoff dismissed, and for some reason, it actually felt like the truth. “It will be nice not to feel as though I am sneaking around or deceiving him.” 

“And now I can tell him to say hi to you, and you actually will.” At that moment, Awsten came up and hugged Zakk from the side. Zakk embraced him with his free arm and rubbed his hand up and down Awsten’s shoulder. “Hey, you. I missed you, big bear.”

“I missed you, too.” 

Geoff took a small bite of his cake, and his eyes widened. “This is delicious.” 

Mary overheard and smiled. “I’m glad you like it, baby.” 

“Did you make this?”

“Yes, last night. And I had some help from two extra chefs.” Subtly, she pointed first at Awsten and then at Otto, who was across the room talking to his father. 

“It is delicious,” he repeated. “Thank you very much.” 

Sara from the library came over to say hello, and Mr. Wood and Otto, and Mr. Carson, and then Mr. Harrison from next door, whom Geoff noted had been pointing at his own colorfully striped sweater and saying something to Awsten, who was listening intently. 

An hour later, when everyone had said goodbye and thanked Geoff for the party (which was still strange to him, because all Geoff had done was drive home and walk into the house), the cake was nearly all gone and the sun had just begun sinking in the sky. 

Geoff heard a shout and a laugh from the backyard, and he went over to the door, which he opened. 

“You silly goose!” Benny yelled, giggling wildly as Awsten chased him around the yard. 

“You’re too fast, Benny!” Awsten told him, and Geoff could tell that he meant it. He was panting as he ran, and he stopped to put his hands on his knees and catch his breath. 

“He has ‘durance!” Travis assisted. 

“Yes, I do!” Benny smiled. His chest puffed out proudly. 

Soon, he and Travis were tackling each other and rolling around the grass and laughing while Awsten sat a ways off and sipped some water. Leslie wandered over and sat down beside Awsten, and they talked for a little bit. Awsten was listening to her in the same way he listened when Mr. W was reading him a “really good” story; he stared at her, looking right into her eyes for a long time but casting them away for a few seconds before looking right back into them again. Geoff wondered what she was saying, but before he could casually move closer, Travis shouted, “Awsten, Awsten! Come play!” 

Awsten said something to Leslie with a little laugh and then, without waiting for a response, scrambled across the grass on his hands and knees toward Benny and Travis.

Geoff walked over to her and filled the space where Awsten had just been, although he opted to stand. “Hello.” 

“Hi!” She looked over at the boys but spoke to Geoff. “Awsten tells me he works at a frozen yogurt store.” 

“Yes.” 

She shook her head. “No, it’s not right.” 

Geoff felt confused. 

“This is his gift,” she stated, motioning to the trio on the ground. “It is rare to meet someone who has so much love for those with different abilities.” 

“He does love people,” Geoff commented, feeling a little uncomfortable. She was practically a stranger, and yet she was making judgements about who Awsten was and what he should do with his life. “He is very good with children as well.” 

“You’re a teacher? That’s what Travis told me.”

“Yes, that is correct.” 

“So you know, then. That this-” She motioned to the three boys again- “is rare.” 

Geoff nodded slowly. He had thought since October that Awsten would make a fantastic elementary or even preschool educator, but he’d never considered special education. Now that he was seeing Awsten happy to be literally rolling around in the grass with two people who would fit that category, he had to admit that she had a point. 

“Travis just loves him,” she said. “He was jumping up and down this morning like a jackrabbit asking me over and over how much longer til it was time to get in the car to see him.” 

Geoff smiled. “Awsten adores him.” 

“Oh, yes. You know, I’m sorry that their lives led them to that group home but glad they found each other there. It seems like a good place. It was so nice to see Zakk again today. And to see Zakk with Travis. Those two have a very special bond as well.” 

“Yes, they do. Zakk and Lucas make Peace and Purpose a wonderful place.” 

“You read to the children there, correct?” 

Geoff nodded. “Once per week.” 

“If you ever feel like coming to the farm to read, my boys would love that. Travis could give you a tour, and Awsten could come, too.”

“That sounds lovely.”

Leslie smiled. “We’ll have to make a plan before we go. Travis will be over the moon.” 

Just then, even though he was well out of earshot, Awsten smiled over at the two adults, and Geoff was stricken by how much he looked like pure sunshine. Geoff's stomach dropped, and he felt frozen.

The moment ended quickly, though; Travis, wanting Awsten’s attention back, poked at him, and Awsten playfully yelped and reached down to tickle him. “Travis! What are you doing?!” he cried, and Travis writhed around and laughed delightedly. 

Leslie looked at Geoff, smiled, and strung together an innocent question made of five words. 

Geoff blinked, suddenly feeling like all the air had been pulled out of his lungs. 

 

* * *

 

_January 2, 2015_

_What a loud and wild afternoon._

_Awsten and I ate cake for dinner tonight, and he had second helping later for dessert. I am sure that he will finish the entire thing in the next two days, though, truthfully, there is not very much left to be had._

_He threw a surprise birthday party for me - a surprise half-birthday party, I should say - and I will be the first to tell you that I was indeed very surprised. I came to discover that there were several people hiding in my kitchen. I have no idea how long they had been there, but I believe that it had to have been at least twenty or thirty minutes. And it was a Friday evening, so there were many of them in attendance: Sara the assistant librarian, Mr. Carson, who is our town grocer, Mr. Harrison from next door, Zakk, Travis and his mother and brother, the entire Wood family, and Awsten, of course. He pulled the entire event together in roughly twenty-four hours, and that many people still showed up. Leslie (Travis’ adoptive mother) said something to me like, “What nice friends and family you have to come celebrate with you on such short notice.” And she was correct. I did not realize I had any friends at all, and yet there they all were, shouting “SURPRISE!” at me and scaring me half to death. (Awsten was very pleased by my terror.)_

_The best thing to come from the festivities, other than my realization that I am not so awfully alone as I had imagined, is the stack of books on my nightstand. I have eight new books! Eight! I am delighted, and I was sure to thank everyone accordingly._

_Awsten stumbled across my Goodreads list somehow (although I wonder if perhaps Sara tipped him off) and shared my ‘Want to Read’ section with everyone. So now not only do I have eight books on my bedside table, but they are eight books that I am excited about._

_I am a bit extra thankful for Awsten today. Had I known this party was coming, I would have dreaded it every minute. But it was quite fun, especially for Travis, who spent an extra hour rolling around my yard with Awsten and Benny. While Leslie and I were watching them play, she asked me something that made me feel as if something had knocked the breath out of me. Truthfully, the thought has already crossed my mind. But hearing the inquiry aloud and knowing the answer in my heart was a different experience._

_I do not wish to disclose the question in the case that Awsten reads my journal again for some reason. I am entirely certain that I will remember the conversation regardless._

_Alas, I believe that I will begin with a biography of Anne Sexton that Mr. Harrison has chosen for me. He knows and shares my love of poetry, and we have discussed Sexon’s work on more than one occasion after Grandmother passed, and I believe that our conversations were his way of checking on me. I did not realize that until today._

_The novel may be a bit dreary for the new year, but after this overwhelming afternoon, I think I am ready for something a bit sobering._

 

_Later._

 

_I have not written twice in one day for some time, but Awsten found me reading a red novel when his was distinctly brown and exclaimed, “Why aren’t you reading my diabetic owl book?!”He took the biography out of my hands and replaced it with the collection of David Sedaris’ essays and told me to look on the first page. Awsten had done what I have done for him and left an inscription. His reads:_

 

_Happy half birthday to the only person named Geoff I ever liked and probably will ever like. You are old but not as old as I thought you were so that’s cool I guess. Congrats on being not all that old and then also a half. I hope you like your party. I made a lot of phone calls for you, and me and Otto and Mom worked hard on your cake._

_I love you.  
_

_\- Awsten_

_“Outside of a dog, a book is man’s best friend. Inside of a dog, it’s too dark to read.”  
_ _Groucho Marx_

 

_He makes me laugh and smile more frequently than anyone I have ever met._

_I do not want to forget this day, not even when I truly am old._

 

* * *

 

 

**January 4**

_“Katniss, got that spile?” Finnick asks, snapping me back to reality. I cut the vine that ties the spile to my belt and hold the metal tube out to him._

_That's when I hear the scream. So full of fear and pain it ices my blood. And so familiar. I drop the spile, forget where I am or what lies ahead, only know I must reach her, protect her. I run wildly in the direction of the voice, heedless of danger, ripping through vines and branches, through anything that keeps me from reaching her._

_From reaching my little sister._

 

“What?” Awsten gasped.

“We’ll stop there for the night,” Geoff told him, slowly closing the book. 

“Awwww, no,” Awsten groaned. 

Geoff expected Awsten to talk about what they’d read for a few moments and then stand and head up the stairs with Tuna cradled against his chest, but instead he just laid silent and motionless on the arm of the couch, his eyes still closed. 

“Are you alright?” Geoff inquired.

“Yeah. My head hurts.”

“Oh, I am sorry. Would you like a some ibuprofen?” 

“No, thanks,” Awsten said quickly, but he remained motionless. 

“I see. Some water, perhaps?” 

Awsten was quiet as he considered this. Then he decided, “Okay.” 

Geoff stood and went to the kitchen to fill a glass. Tuna stayed in her spot on Awsten’s shirt. When he returned, she was kneading Awsten’s stomach like it was dough. 

“I love her so fucking much,” Awsten said quietly as he took the cup. “Thanks.” 

“You are welcome. She is a nice cat, isn’t she?” 

“Yeah.” Awsten took a small sip and then two large gulps. Then he sighed. “I don’t want you to go back to school tomorrow.” 

Geoff couldn’t suppress his smile. “You will hardly notice that I am gone.”

“No, I will. And so will Tuna. It’s gonna suck.” 

“Awsten…” 

He shook his head. “I know it’s stupid, but I don’t want you to go. These have been the best three weeks of my whole fucking life.” He tapped the pads of his fingertips lightly against the glass. Geoff watched them, not wanting to see Awsten’s face even though it was well-hidden by the angle alone. 

“We will have to manage,” Geoff told him. “I have made a commitment to teach.” 

“I know,” Awsten replied glumly. 

“I am glad to hear that you’ve been so happy lately, though.” 

“Yeah,” he muttered. He sloshed the water around in his glass. “Me, too.” 

Geoff stood and started toward the kitchen, and Awsten’s frown deepened. 

“My head hurts,” he stated again.

Geoff smiled sadly at him, not sure what to say. 

“I’m going to bed,” he said a little angrily. 

With a nod, Geoff murmured, “Goodnight.”

Awsten didn’t reply. 

Geoff couldn’t help but notice that his jaw was clenched.

 

* * *

** January 10 **

_“Yo, Zo!” he calls to me when he sees me. “How are you feeling?”_

_“Like shit,” I reply. But, of course, he doesn’t hear me._

_“I made you pancakes,” he says, cheerfully._

_I force myself to wag my tail, and I really shouldn’t have, because the wagging jostles my bladder and I feel warm droplets of urine splash my feet._

_“It’s okay, boy,” he says. “I’ve got it.”_

_He cleans up my mess and tears me a piece of pancake. I take it in my mouth, but I can’t chew it, I can’t taste it. It sits on my tongue limply until it finally falls out of my mouth and onto the floor. I think Denny notices, but he doesn’t say anything; he keeps flipping the pancakes, setting them on the rack to cool._

_I don’t want Denny to worry about me. I don’t want to force him to take me on a one-way visit to the vet. He loves me so much. The worst thing I could possibly do to Denny is make him hurt me._

 

Geoff, sitting comfortably in his chair, looked down at the two teenagers who were sprawled on their stomachs at his feet. Between the boys sat a plate that only contained two wilting baby carrots (the rest had been devoured over an hour previously) and a small smear of ranch dressing. 

He wondered how they would react to the closing of the novel. They both looked upset already.

 

_When I return to this world, I will be a man. I will walk among you. I will lick my lips with my small, dextrous tongue. I will shake hands with other men, grasping firmly with my opposable thumbs. And I will teach people all that I know. And when I see a man or a woman or a child in trouble, I will extend my hand, both metaphorically and physically. I will offer my hand. To him. To her. To you. To the world. I will be a good citizen, a good partner in the endeavor of life that we all share._

_I go to Denny, and I push my muzzle into his thigh._

_“There’s my Enzo,” he says._

_And he reaches down out of instinct; we’ve been together so long, he touches the crown of my head, and his fingers scratch at the crease of my ears. The touch of a man._

 

Otto was wiping at his eyes, but Awsten had a small smile on his face. The two of them were lying next to each other on the hardwood, both resting their elbows on pillows from the couch. Tuna was asleep on Awsten’s lower back.

 

_There are no fences. No buildings. No people. There is only me and the grass and the sky and the earth. Only me._

_“I love you, boy.”_

_I take a few steps into the field, and it feels so good, so nice to be in the cool air, to smell the smells all around me. To feel the sun on my coat. I feel like I am here._

_“You can go.”_

_I gather my strength and I start off and it feels good, like I have no age at all, like I am timeless. I pick up speed. I run._

_“It’s okay, Enzo.”_

_I don’t look back, but I know he’s there. I bark twice because I want him to hear, I want him to know. I feel his eyes on me but I don’t turn back. Off into the field, into the vastness of the universe ahead of me, I run._

 

Geoff finished the last few pages, and when he closed the book, he looked down at the boys again. Otto had stopped crying, and Awsten was pulling away from embracing him. The next thing Geoff knew, Awsten was tipping his hips to one side to wake Tuna and get her off of him. Awsten grabbed her before she could walk away, and then he silently stood, carrying the little cat over to the armchair. With one arm, he hugged the cat, and with the other, he hugged his teacher. 

Geoff reached up to pat him on the back. 

“That was really good,” Awsten said quietly. 

“I am very glad to hear that you enjoyed it. Would you like to discuss it?”

Awsten shook his head, stood up, and gave Tuna a kiss between the ears. "Maybe later."

“Otto?”

He shook his head as well. 

“Alright.” A beat passed. “Shall I start dinner then?”

Awsten nodded.

“Very well. I will be in the kitchen should you need me.” 

“Wait, no, can we help?” Awsten asked. 

“Of course,” Geoff replied. “Could you go out to the garden and pick some parsley, please?” 

“Sure! Come on, Otto!”

 

* * *

 

**January 12**

“Come on, Otto.” Awsten motioned him toward the door to the back room, but Otto didn’t budge.

“What if Mrs. Chang comes?” he asked worriedly.

“She won’t. Come on.” 

“But what if she does?”

Awsten reached underneath his purple visor to push his bangs back into place. “Otto…”

“I could get in trouble. _You_ could get in trouble!”

Awsten sighed loudly. “Look, Jake fucked an underage girl in the bathroom a couple weeks ago, and she literally did not care. It’s fine.”

“What?!” Otto demanded. 

Awsten turned and went through the door, and Otto rushed after him. 

“That’s not funny!”

“I know.” 

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“I wouldn’t joke about that.”

“That’s fucked up.” 

Awsten was glad Otto wasn't the type to ask who the girl was; despite being a year younger, Sadie Mae had been in attendance at almost all of Otto’s birthday parties. “Yeah, well, he’s fucked up. I would know - I spend almost as much time with him as I do with you.” And with that, Awsten breezed into the back room. Just as he expected, Otto rushed after him. 

“Wait! He really did that?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

Awsten started messing with one of the machines that had started to fall asleep. Every two hours or so, it would automatically shut off, and not even Maddie could figure out why. They just had to go make sure it was still on so that they didn’t have to throw all of that warm, runny yogurt out and wait while it made a new batch.

“And Mrs. Chang wasn’t mad?”

“Nope. I told Mr. W I would have fired him.”

“Dude, I would have fired him, too! That’s disgusting. He’s so gross.” 

The back room door swung open again, and in waltzed Jake. “Who’s so gross?”

Without missing a beat, Otto said, “Nobody.” 

Jake just looked at him. “You’re, um… Otto, right? What are you doing back here? Did you get hired?” 

“Uh, no,” Awsten replied. “He’s just hanging out with me today.” 

“I heard you go to UT Austin.”

“UT Dallas,” Otto corrected. 

“Oh, cool. You ever go watch the Cowboys play?”

Otto shook his head. “No, that’s not really my thing.” 

“Oh, yeah? What’s your thing?”

Otto cocked an eyebrow. “Baseball. You were - we were on the same team.”

“Oh, yeah!” Jake grinned. "I forgot all about that."  


Awsten glanced between them and realized Otto looked ticked. He picked up his pace with the machine. 

“You playing ball at college?” 

“Yeah,” Otto said, but he clearly wasn’t finished. “We played together for like seven years. There were never more than fifteen kids on the team, but you have to double-check my name?” 

“Ohhhhkay,” Awsten interrupted, slipping a hand onto Otto’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze as he steered him past Jake and out to the main part of the store. 

“Sorry, man,” Jake shrugged, and Awsten hoped that Otto couldn’t tell that he was being insincere. 

Awsten glared back at Jake over his shoulder. 

“So. College, huh? You getting any babes back to your dorm room?” 

Awsten huffed, but Otto looked up at him evenly. 

Jake continued. “I know you’re a little dude, but are you getting any action? They say college girls will hit anything. Fill me in.” Jake waggled his tongue, and Otto leaned forward like he was going to hit him.

Awsten hurriedly grabbed him and snapped at Jake, “Will you fucking stop?”

“What?” Jake asked, his eyes wide and innocent. 

“You are such an _asshole_!” Otto yelled. “I don’t know how the hell Awsten puts up with you. Just go away!”

“You go away,” Jake said calmly. “I work here. You don’t.” 

“You were always mean, you know that? Even when we were kids, you were the jerk. You think you’re so cool, but you just look stupid.”

“Otto,” Awsten hissed. 

Otto whirled around to glare at him. “No, shut up!” Back to Jake, he said, “Kids would quit the team because you were on it.”

“Yeah, I know.” 

Otto made a frustrated sound. “What is wrong with you?!” 

“Nothing. I just wanted to know if you were getting that pu-”

Otto lunged again, but Awsten had been ready that time. He ducked between them and then pushed Otto back and toward the door. As he walked, he pointed his finger at Jake and said, “I’ll be back in a second. Don’t set the place on fucking fire while I’m gone.”

“I hate him!” Otto raged as soon as they were outside. 

“I know. So do I. But you can’t win with him because he doesn’t give a fuck about anything, okay? Don’t let him get to you.”

“Awsten!” he cried frustratedly, ripping his arm out of Awsten’s grip. 

“Okay, shh, shh,” Awsten hummed, and Otto went forward and threw his arms around Awsten’s neck. Awsten caught him and held him tightly. 

“I’m so mad!” 

“I know.” He exhaled as silently as he could and held Otto for a long moment while he caught his breath. “I’ll walk you home, okay?” 

The sadness was clear in Otto's voice as he said, “But I’m leaving soon. I want to hang out with you.” 

“Well, he’s not going anywhere, and I don't want you to have to hang out with him. You should go home and keep packing. I can text you the whole time.” 

Otto made an angry sound and pulled back. “No!” 

“Remember how you told me you’ve been working on knowing when you take yourself out of the situation?” 

“Ugh,” Otto groaned. 

“This is a good time to do that.” 

“Fine. But don’t text me.” He gave Awsten’s chest a light shove and started away. 

“What?” 

“I’m mad at you. Leave me the hell alone.” 

Awsten shut his eyes for a moment and then walked slowly back into FroYo Mama alone. 

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Jake teased.

Awsten didn’t reply.

“Oh, we’re back to the silent treatment, huh?” Jake smirked. “Okay. Okay, I see.” 

Twenty minutes later, Otto called. There were two customers inside, and Jake was playing around in the back room, so Awsten let it ring. When he glanced at the screen a few minutes later, it announced that Otto had left a voicemail. 

A tearful apology no doubt. 

Awsten texted him back without listening to it. _It’s fine I understand. Can I come over after dinner?_

_Sorry again. And of course._

 

* * *

 

 _Is life something you play?_  
_And all the time wanting to get rid of it?_  
_And further, everyone yelling at you_  
_to shut up. And no wonder!_  
_People don't like to be told_  
_that you're sick_  
_and then be forced_  
_to watch_  
_you_  
_come_  
_down with the hammer._  
  
_Today life opened inside me like an egg_  
_and there inside_  
_after considerable digging_  
_I found the answer._  
_What a bargain!_  
_There was the sun,_  
_her yolk moving feverishly,_  
_tumbling her prize —_  
_and you realize she does this daily!_  
_I'd known she was a purifier_  
_but I hadn't thought_  
_she was solid,_  
_hadn't known she was an answer._  
_God! It's a dream,_  
_lovers sprouting in the yard_  
_like celery stalks_  
_and better,_  
_a husband straight as a redwood,_  
_two daughters, two sea urchings,_  
_picking roses off my hackles._  
_If I'm on fire they dance around it_  
_and cook marshmallows._  
_And if I'm ice_  
_they simply skate on me_  
_in little ballet costumes._  
  
_Here,_  
_all along,_  
_thinking I was a killer,_  
_anointing myself daily_  
_with my little poisons._  
_But no._  
_I'm an empress._  
_I wear an apron._  
_My typewriter writes._  
_It didn't break the way it warned._  
_Even crazy, I'm as nice_  
_as a chocolate bar._

 

* * *

 

 

**January 14**

“It’s okay,” Awsten lied, his chin settled on Otto’s shoulder. “We’ll FaceTime every day if you want.”

“Yeah,” Otto said with a wet sniff as he pulled back. 

“And we’re coming up for your very first baseball game, remember? I’ll get Mom to make us all matching shirts with your face on them.”

“Already on it!” Mrs. Wood exclaimed with a smile. 

“See? She’s got us! It’ll go by before you know it.” 

“It’s gonna be, like, a whole month!” 

“Yeah, but you’ll be super busy. You won’t even notice. And we’ll FaceTime so much that you’ll be completely fucking sick of me. You won’t even want me to come!” Awsten grabbed sloppily at his wrist and swung it back and forth. “It’ll be fine. And if it gets really bad, I’ll find a way to come visit. Do you have all your medicine?” 

Otto nodded.

“Okay, good. And you’ve got me,” he assured, tapping at Otto’s cell phone, “and you’ve got Mom and your dad, and now you’ve even got Mr. W. Hey!”

Otto looked up. 

“You know what we could do? I can call you during reading!” 

“Yeah,” Otto said quietly. 

“What book do you wanna hear? We can get whatever you want. And if Mr. W says it’s not appropriate, I’ll try to read it to you.” 

“Shut up,” Otto muttered, leaning forward and hugging him. 

“What?”

Suddenly angry, Otto half-yelled, “Just shut up!”

“Shh, okay. Okay.” 

Otto huffed as Awsten rubbed his back. 

“It’s okay…” 

“Sorry,” he said shortly. “I’m just upset.”

“No, I know. it’s fine.” 

Otto stood up straight. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too. But we’ll just text each other.” 

Otto nodded. “Yeah.”

“Son,” Mr. Wood said, “we gotta go if we’re gonna make it there in good time.” 

“Kay,” he murmured. He looked back at Awsten. “Love you.”

“Love you,” Awsten echoed. 

Watching Otto climb into the backseat of Mom’s small SUV didn’t suck as much as Awsten had been expecting, although something about it did feel… final. When Awsten had been off work while Mr. W had been at school, Awsten had always gone to the Woods’ to hang out with Otto. But now that Otto was gone, Awsten knew that he was going to be spending a lot more time alone. 

He didn’t want to be alone.

He was afraid to be alone.

The car drove away, and Awsten began the walk home, rubbing absently at his aching forehead and singing under his breath. Before he’d even been traveling for ten minutes, his phone chimed. He looked down at it. 

_Dad is blasting country,_ Otto had written.

Awsten chuckled. _What song?_ he texted back. 

_Summertime by Kenny Chesney_

Awsten had only heard it in Mr. Wood’s pickup, but he instantly had it playing in his head. _The Yoohoo song!_

_Yep_

_Dude as far as country goes that one’s really not that terrible_

_But it’s January!_ Otto protested.

_Lol_

 

* * *

 

Awsten found himself in the kitchen with the lights off. The balloons and streamers and “Happy Birthday!” sign were up, and the pink cake was still sitting half-eaten on the counter. He wandered over to it and swiped his finger through a glob of strawberry frosting that was sitting on the platter. “Mr. W?” he called. 

He went to the window and looked out into the backyard. That radiant evening light was beaming down from the sky, painting long, black shadows in the shape of tree trunks but bathing everything else - the grass, the leaves, and the sunflowers, which were alive again -in rich gold. 

“Tuna?” 

He listened carefully, but there was no meow or rush of paws. 

“Otto?” Awsten asked. “Zakk? Mom? Travis? Where are you guys?” He started to grow uneasy; the frosting on his tongue was tasting less sweet and more rotten by the second. He used his teeth to try to scrape the taste off, but it stayed. 

Water. 

He needed water. 

He went to the fridge and hurriedly wrenched it open, but it was empty inside like a model unit from a department store. 

“Fuck,” he muttered as he closed it.

_BANG!_

Awsten froze. _Please, no, no no,_ he begged, but the sound picked back up, louder and faster. He shut his eyes. _Please. Please. No…_ _Not again…_

And then, in realization, he opened them. The full home, the birthday party. Everyone going missing. And now the gunshots… 

“OTTO!” Awsten shouted, panicked. He was unable to move, but he couldn’t help but scream for them. “MOM! ZAKK! TRAVIS! _MR. W!_ ” 

 

* * *

 

** January 29 **

“Mr. W?!” Awsten yelled.

Tuna leapt down from Geoff’s lap and rushed up the steps. 

“Yes?” Geoff called back from his armchair. It was far, far too late for Awsten to be awake - nearly one thirty AM. 

“Mr. W!” 

Geoff closed his book and started toward the staircase. “I am coming. What do you need?” 

“PLEASE!”

“Oh, dear,” Geoff murmured to himself, picking up his speed; he knew that tone. 

Awsten was dreaming. 

 

* * *

 

Awsten was outside kneeling in a pool of blood, his forehead resting on Mr. W’s arm. He let out a terrible wail of anguish, but then suddenly, Mr. W was talking to him.

“Awsten, it’s alright,” he said urgently. 

Awsten hurried to sit up, but when he looked, Mr. W looked a hundred times worse. His jaw had detached and was moving on its own while his eyes were still blank and dead.

More in emotional pain than in horror, Awsten screamed again. 

“No, shh, shh, it’s alright. Wake up. You must wake up.” 

_Wake up?_

“Awsten, please. You are safe.” 

Awsten couldn’t tear his eyes away from Mr. W’s grotesque face, though, still moving and speaking, even in death. Without meaning to, Awsten whimpered. 

This was all his fault. If he hadn’t insisted on throwing this stupid party in the first place, there wouldn’t have been a massacre on the lawn. 

“Awsten!”

With a strangled cry, he opened his eyes, bolted up in bed, and threw the covers off. He intended to run down the stairs and out to the front yard, but he was quickly caught by a pair of steady hands. 

“Awsten, hush. Hush. It’s alright.” 

He’d know that voice anywhere. 

Awsten looked up, and there, right in front of him, was Mr. W. Awsten stared up at him in confusion for a few seconds. Then, still breathing hard from the dream, he reached up with both hands and felt his teacher’s face, making sure that all of the pieces were still intact and attached. His fingers patted down Mr. W’s jaw and cheeks and chin, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up at his eyes. He was too terrified of what he might see. Or what might be missing.

Mr. W didn’t pull back or say anything to stop Awsten or even ask what he was doing. He just let Awsten’s fingers travel over his skin, and for that, Awsten was grateful. 

“But y-you were-” Awsten stammered, retracting his trembling hands and covering his own face. He leaned into Mr. W's chest.

“Hush,” Mr. W repeated softly. 

And then suddenly, Awsten was safe. Warm and comforted and safe. Mr. W was hugging him. 

“I couldn’t find you!” Awsten exclaimed angrily. “You were gone! Everyone was gone, and I was all alone, and it was all my fault!” He wasn't sure how exactly it had been his fault, but it must have been somehow.

“Shh…” 

Awsten felt confused and disoriented and exhausted, but he continued speaking as Mr. W led him back over to his bed. “Why did everybody have to go outside?” he pleaded.

“Everyone is alright,” Mr. W promised, and he gave Awsten a gentle push to make him sit. “Get back under the covers.” 

Awsten, too tired to do anything but obey, did. “Everybody left me, and then they were dead! And you were bleeding so bad… And your face-” He whimpered again. Tuna padded hesitantly up beside him. 

“I am fine,” Mr. W promised. He walked away, but just across the room to pull Awsten’s chair from his desk and bring to the side of the bed. “We are all safe, Awsten. It is time to sleep.” 

“Mom was dead,” Awsten groaned, lifting Tuna and wrapping her in his arms, “and Otto and Zakk and Travis and his new family. And Mr. Carson and Mr. Miller and Miss Sara. They were all dead, and it was all my fault.” He scratched gently at Tuna’s back, trying more to soothe himself than to assure her that he was alright.

“Hush now… It wasn’t real.” Mr. W pressed Awsten’s shoulders down until Awsten was lying down, and then Mr. W sat down in the chair. “Everyone is safe in their beds. As are you.” 

“Tell me about the cottage again,” Awsten begged. 

“It’s just a fantasy, Awsten.” Mr. W said quietly, “and you are half-asleep.” 

“Please?”

“The last time we discussed the cottage, you were nearly killed.”

“ _Please_.” 

He sighed again and rubbed at his mouth. “Very well, then. Shut your eyes.”

Awsten obeyed. His breath quickened, but he didn’t open his eyes again. Tuna began to purr against his chest. Her vibrations calmed him.

“ _Once upon a time,_ ” Mr. W said pointedly, “deep in the woods, straight back and a little to the right, there was a small, wooden cottage surrounded by colorful flowers…” 


	12. February

** February 3 **

“No! HELP! H-”

Awsten’s scream cut off on its own before Geoff made it into his bedroom. 

“I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay,” Awsten panted to him, pressing one hand on his chest and holding the other out to keep Geoff at bay. Awsten was halfway across the room, his entire left side smushed against the wall. 

“What is the matter?” Geoff asked worriedly. “Was it another dream?”

Awsten sank down to the floor and pushed his fingers into his forehead. He nodded, still breathing hard. 

Tuna hopped down from the bed and took a seat a few inches away from Awsten, meowing quietly as if to alert him of her presence. He did not reach for her, though, something that Geoff found odd. 

“It’s not real,” Awsten whispered. 

“No. It was only a dream.” 

Awsten nodded thankfully, like Geoff had said the right thing. That was also strange; Awsten never agreed with much of anything Geoff had to say after one of Awsten’s nightmares. 

“It’s not real,” Awsten muttered again, his voice barely audible. Then he looked up and took his hands down from his face. “Can you sit with me?” 

“Yes.” Geoff came a bit closer and sat down across from the teenager. He allowed his back to rest against Awsten’s bed. 

“Do you ever get your dreams confused with life?” Awsten asked quietly. “Like, even after you wake up?” He stuck his legs out in front of him and lightly tapped his own big toes together. 

“I do not remember my dreams.”

Awsten’s eyebrows rose so much that Geoff noticed even in the darkness. “What?” 

“Save for a few, no. I do not recall them. I apologize.” 

“What ones _do_ you remember?”

_The one where you had attacked Michael and dragged him here with his leg stuck in the back wheel of your bicycle._

Geoff shook his head dismissively. “None I feel compelled to share. They are far from noteworthy.” 

“What’s ‘noteworthy’ again?” Awsten asked. “I know you told me before.”

“Noteworthy is… well, something of note. Something interesting. If it is noteworthy, it’s _worth_ making a _note_ of, so it matters enough that you might jot it down.” 

Awsten looked down at Tuna, who was attempting to climb onto his lap unnoticed. “You’re noteworthy,” he muttered to her. He scooped her up and closed his eyes, tipping his head back against the wall and exhaling heavily. To Geoff, he said, “Sorry for yelling again.” 

“Awsten, perhaps there is a way to make the nightmares stop or at least reduce in frequency.”

“No medicine,” Awsten said evenly, and he got to his feet with Tuna in his arms. 

“But-”

“Rian says I’m old enough that unless I’m in the hospital for an emergency, I get to choose. And I’m not in the hospital for an emergency, so I choose no medicine.” 

Geoff exhaled. “Very well.”

“Look, I get it,” Awsten said softly as he sat down on the edge of his bed, “but I’m not taking fucking pills. I can’t.”

“Even if you could sleep through the night?” Geoff pressed. It hurt him so badly to know that there were countless options for Awsten to try - sleeping pills, psychiatric drugs, melatonin…

Awsten shook his head.

“Well,” Geoff said quietly, “I am sure that we can find something else. Perhaps… yoga.”

Awsten snorted. “Goodnight,” he said shortly as he climbed into bed.

Geoff understood that he was being dismissed. “Goodnight,” he replied. “Are you keeping Tuna?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright.” 

As Geoff exited the room, Awsten asked, “Mr. W?”

He turned back. “Yes?” 

“Can you shut the door?” 

Geoff blinked. 

Awsten stared at him expectantly.

“Yes, of course. Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight.”

Geoff closed the door.

 

* * *

 

** February 14 **

“Congratulations, baby!” Mom cheered as Awsten came walking up the drive with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

He gave her a confused look. “For what?”

“Your promotion!” 

As Awsten got up to the door, Mom took the bag from him and handed it to Mr. Wood, who emerged from the house and gave Awsten a little smile as he walked out to the car. 

Mom kissed Awsten on the cheek and then pulled him into a hug. He hugged her back. She smelled so nice, just like always. 

“Otto told us that you’re the shift manager at the frozen yogurt store now!” she reported.

“Oh, that,” Awsten said as he pulled back. “Yeah.”

“Congratulations!” she exclaimed again, clapping a little bit for him. 

“Well, no, I just - see, Maddie’s graduating this year, and she’s on the basketball team, too, so she’s too busy to do it anymore. So Mrs. Chang basically had to choose between me and Jake.”

“Well, I’m sure that was a very easy choice,” Mom said to him with a smile.

“Did she give you a raise?” Mr. Wood called from where he was fitting Awsten’s bag into the trunk. 

“David!” Mom laughed. 

“Well, hon, they need to give him a raise if they’re making him a manager. I just want to make sure he’s being paid what he deserves.” 

“Twenty-five cents an hour,” Awsten supplied. 

Mr. Wood frowned. “That’s it?” 

“I know. But it’s more than nothing,” Awsten shrugged, "and I'm not really adding that much work, so."

“It's still not enough,” Mr. Wood grumbled. “I’d give my guys a hell of a lot more than that if I was promoting them.”

“Well, it’s a good place to start, honey,” Mom pointed out to her husband. “Maybe he’ll get more as he goes.” 

“Awsten,” Mr. Wood called, and the teenager turned back. Just in time, too - Mr. Wood tossed something at him. 

Awsten grabbed it out of the air and held it up in front of himself. He stared at it for a few seconds and then laughed aloud. 

“Do you like it?” Mom asked hopefully.

“Are you kidding me? I’m gonna wear this every day!” 

Displayed on the forest green t-shirt was a giant photo of Otto’s goofily smiling face. 

“This is my favorite shirt,” he declared, laughing again.

“Look at the back,” Mom told him, and he turned it around. 

There was a large 12 in the middle - Otto’s new number - and across the shoulders where the name should go, “Otto’s Brother” was printed. Awsten grinned. He stuffed it between his knees and peeled his plain gray long sleeve shirt off right there in the doorway. 

Once he’d changed, Mom smoothed Awsten’s hair down. “Are you ready to go, honey? Do you want to run to the bathroom before we leave?”

“I’m all set.” 

“Okay. Oh, I’m so excited that you’re coming with us. Otto’s going to be so happy to see you.” She looked to the other side. “David, baby, are you ready to go?” 

“Yep. Let me grab my sunglasses off the counter, and I’ll be ready.” 

Awsten, Mom, and Mr. Wood spent the three hour trip in Mom’s nice car, which was good; Awsten, for some reason, had been envisioning the journey taking place in Mr. Wood’s rusty pickup with blasting country music and no heater, but Mom kept the air inside her car nice and toasty. So toasty, in fact, that Awsten slept for two of the hours with his head resting against the cool glass of the window.

“What nice weather!” Mom declared as they got out of the car. 

Awsten yawned and stretched as he stepped out of the backseat. Mom gave him another big hug, and he leaned on her and closed his eyes.

“You didn’t get to see any of the campus, did you?” she asked, frowning. “Dad was right. We should have woken you up.” She hurriedly corrected, “Otto’s dad, I mean.”

He pulled back and smiled at her. “It’s okay. And I don’t care that much about the school, anyway. I’m just here for Otto.” 

Quietly and privately while Mr. Wood got her purse out of the trunk, Mom murmured to Awsten, “Baby… you could apply here someday. Maybe even for the summer semester.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he replied, forcing a smile.

“You could! You’re so smart. Don’t you still want to be a-” 

Awsten began to walk away.

She hurried after him. “Honey?” 

“I don’t wanna talk about it. I just wanna find Otto.” 

“Well, the field is right up there,” Mr. Wood said, pointing. 

Awsten jogged in that direction, eager to get escape the conversation. He went up a set of concrete stairs and then up to the gravel path that lead to the fancy baseball field. It was chilly, but the sun was out. Awsten had his nice coat in his hand, and he wanted to put it on, but he decided that he’d rather have everyone know that he was Otto’s brother. 

It didn’t take too long for Awsten to locate his best friend. Otto was the smallest guy on the field, both in height and in width, and Awsten smiled when he saw him throwing a ball back and forth with another one of the boys on his team.

Just like when he’d been a little kid, Awsten ran up to the fence, wove his fingers through the mesh, and jangled it exactly five times. 

Otto turned, recognizing the sound. A grin broke out across his face, and he waved happily. 

Awsten waved back as Otto said something to the guy he’d been warming up with and then jogged over. Halfway to Awsten, Otto noticed the shirt and covered his face, laughing loudly. 

Awsten turned around so he could see the back. 

“I like that part better,” Otto commented.

“Come over here!” Awsten yelled to him as he faced him again. 

“No!” Otto laughed. “I hate your shirt too much!”

“Come here!” Awsten insisted, chuckling as well at the sight of Otto’s mixed embarrassment and joy. 

Instead of walking up to the fence like Awsten had expected, Otto ducked through the dugout and hurried out to the bleachers. The two boys threw their arms around each other and squeezed. 

Somebody on the field hooted, and Otto let go of Awsten and spun him around so that the guy could read the back of Awsten’s shirt. 

“Oh!” the dude yelled. “Sorry!” 

Mr. and Mrs. Wood had caught up by then and took their turns hugging Otto, too. Awsten noticed that Mom didn’t kiss him or fuss over him nearly as much as she would have if they’d been at home, but Otto did lean up and covertly kiss her cheek. 

“Good luck, honey,” Mom smiled. 

“Thanks. I gotta get back…”

As if on cue, a man yelled, “WOOD! Say goodbye to your mama and get your ass back out here!”

Mom looked embarrassed, but Otto actually didn’t. He just gave his family a little wave and rushed back to the field. 

"We got ten minutes to first pitch, son!” the man yelled, pointing repeatedly at his watch.

Instead of looking anxious and upset like Awsten had expected, Otto was smiling at the guy. 

“Ten minutes!” the man continued. “We ain’t got the time!”

“Sorry!” Otto said lightly. 

“That’s Coach B,” Mr. Wood told Awsten. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

“He’s been good with Otto,” Mr. Wood continued. “All the outbursts and such. He’s real patient with him. He had a sister go to Afghanistan and come back… different.” 

Mom motioned to the bleachers. “Should we find a seat?” 

They did, and Awsten winced at how cold the metal bleachers were, but he got used to it quickly. He turned to Otto’s parents and stated, “This feels like high school.” 

“The game is different,” Mr. Wood told him. “It’s still slow-paced, but the difference in skill level is astronomical. Especially in comparison to the Lakeview boys,” he noted with a little chuckle. 

Mr. Wood was right. Soon, the guys on the field were hitting the ball farther than Awsten had ever seen it go and running faster than just about anybody he’d ever seen.

Otto didn’t get to play until the third inning, and Awsten was pretty bored until then. He was also pretty cold. But when Otto jogged out onto the grass, it was like everything else went out the window. 

Awsten shot to his feet. “YEAH OTTO!” he yelled. Then he sat back down. He knew that people were staring at him, but he didn’t care.

Otto ignored the shout, but there was no way he hadn’t heard it. A minute later, he covertly smiled over at Awsten and his parents. Mom waved excitedly, and Otto nodded back. 

The game was a lot more fun after that. Awsten still cheered at a few of the wrong times (it could get a little confusing having to remember when an out was good and when it was bad since it changed every twenty minutes), but Otto’s team pulled ahead in the eighth inning and maintained their lead until the end. 

Awsten and the Woods waited for Otto to finish with the team meeting, and then he came out of the dugout again, lugging his bulky baseball bag over to them. “Hey,” he smiled. 

They all hugged him again.

“That was great, sweetie!” Mom cheered.

“Yeah, you played well, son. An RBI in your first college game? Way to go.” 

Otto smiled down at his cleats. “Thanks.” Then he looked up at his parents again. “Are you two going on a date?” 

“Oh, well - no?” Mom asked, looking to her husband.

“We could,” Mr. Wood shrugged. “Do you want to?” 

To Otto, Mom said, “Honey, we’re only here for two nights. Don’t you want us to-”

“No, it’s Valentine’s Day. You guys should go somewhere. I keep hearing that there’s a good Italian place a few blocks from the student center.” 

“What about you two?”

“We can go to Barb’s,” Otto said. He turned to Awsten. “You want Mexican? It’s counter-service, and it’s really good.”

“Sure.” Awsten was hungry, so anything sounded good.

Mr. Wood took his wallet out of his pocket and passed Otto a twenty. 

One of the boys - the same one who’d hooted before the game - made a similar noise as he passed by and noticed the money being exchanged. He clapped Otto on the shoulder, jostling him a little bit. “Get that money, boiii!” 

Otto just faked a smile. 

Awsten watched him as he walked away. 

“That’s Ford McGraw; he and Jake would get along,” Otto explained to his family once the guy was out of earshot. “He's not as mean, but he’s a junior, and he’s in a fraternity, and his brother goes here which means that all the older kids know him, so he thinks he’s pretty cool. He drinks all the time, too. Coach B is always threatening to put him on probation for something. I think he's actually going to do it soon.”

As if on cue, the coach walked up. He was friendly with Otto’s dad, like maybe they’d met before, and polite to Mom. He smiled at Awsten but didn’t introduce himself, and he jokingly told Otto to scram and take a shower. 

Otto replied with, “Yes, sir,” and he grabbed Awsten by the elbow and pulled him away.

“Where are we going?”

“My dorm. He's right; I do need to shower. I’ll be quick, though. We can eat after.”

“Okay.” 

“Barb’s is like two blocks from the dorm, so we go there a lot.” 

“We?” 

“Uh, people from school.” 

Awsten suddenly felt awkward. “Just us, though, right?”

“What?”

“I mean, like… none of your friends are coming with us, right?”

Otto laughed. “Friends?” he echoed sarcastically. 

“Oh, come on. You have friends.”

“I mean, yeah, but not friends I go eat with. If I walk down there for food, I usually get it as takeout and come back and eat it in my room.”

“That’s depressing,” Awsten stated frankly.

“Well, what am I gonna do?” 

“There’s nobody on the team that you like?” 

Otto was oddly silent. 

“I mean, you were throwing the ball with that guy before the game, and he seemed nice. I saw you talking to him a lot in the dugout.” 

“Yeah. That’s Carter.” 

“Isn’t he your friend?”

Otto shrugged.

“But you won’t get lunch with him?”

“We have different schedules,” Otto snapped, but he was still pointedly focusing his gaze away from Awsten.

“Why are you being weird about it?” Awsten asked. “I’m just wondering.”

“I’m not being weird.”

“Dude. You’re being weird.” 

“It doesn’t matter, okay? I can eat alone if I want to.”

“Yeah, you can, but you shouldn’t have to.” Awsten sighed. “I want you to still pick me as your best friend, but that doesn't mean I don't want you to, like, actually hang out with people here.”

“Well, it’s not up to you, is it?” 

“Okay, quit it,” Awsten said, stopping in his tracks. 

Otto sighed loudly and turned back. “What?” 

“What’s going on?” 

Otto held his arms out to the sides. “I wanna take a shower and get food. That’s what’s going on.”

“No, why are you being all…”

“All…” Otto repeated, waiting for Awsten to finish his sentence. “Crazy? Neurotic? Psycho?”

“No.”

"Irrational? Pathetic?"

"Otto."

He sighed. “It's really not that big of a deal. You know that I like to have one or two friends, not a bunch. And I have you. So I have a friend. Can we go now?”

“I live three hours away.”

“Yeah, but we FaceTime every day.” 

Awsten silently wondered if maybe they should stop. 

“Look, Awsten, honestly? If I wasn’t fucked up, I’d try to make friends. But I just don’t want to, okay? I’m too much to handle.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.” Otto resumed walking.

Awsten jogged to catch up with him. “It’s really not that bad. I know it’s annoying for you, but you just have to tell them what you need from them when you get upset, and-”

“And what if I don’t want to?” Otto demanded, picking up his pace. “What if I just want to be fucking normal, but I can’t be? I shouldn’t have to teach anybody how to be friends with me." He shot a light glare at Awsten. "You may be fucked up, too, but at least you got lucky; you still seem the same.” 

“That’s because I’ve been hiding it from you,” Awsten blurted. 

Otto turned.

“You’re right. It sucks that you’d have to teach someone how to act around you. But I’m not doing perfectly either, okay? So just - stop. Stop.”

“Can we not talk about this anymore?” 

Awsten looked at his best friend for a long moment. He thought about Rian and how nice it was when Rian let him stop talking about hard things. He sighed quietly. “Yeah, okay.” 

“Good. Thanks.” 

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

Otto led him to a brick building and swiped a card from his wallet to get inside. They traveled up a flight of stairs and halfway down a long hall before Otto stopped outside one and said, “This is my room. Ethan’s probably home.”

“Okay.” 

Awsten had said hi to him once or twice while he’d been on FaceTime but never actually spoken to him. If Awsten was honest, he couldn’t really remember what Ethan even looked like.

But then Otto opened the door, and the blonde boy looked up from his laptop and pulled one of his earbuds out. “Hey.”

Awsten smiled, and Otto replied, “Hey. Uh, this is Awsten.”

“Hey,” Ethan repeated kindly with a nod. To Otto, he asked, “Did y’all win?”

“Yep.”

Ethan gave him a thumbs up and then went back to his laptop. 

Otto dropped his baseball bag on the ground and picked up his shower caddy. As he grabbed a navy towel off of a Command Hook, he said to Awsten, “I’ll be quick.”

“Kay.”

He paused at the door. “You can use my computer if you want. Or the TV. The WiFi login is on that paper by my closet.” 

“Thanks,” Awsten replied. 

And with that, Otto disappeared into the hallway. 

There was about a minute of just silence. Awsten took his time looking around at the posters on the wall and the comforter Otto had picked out and the astronomy book on Ethan’s desk.

As if he could feel him staring at his things, Ethan glanced over at Awsten. They made awkward eye contact, so Ethan hurriedly went right back to whatever he was doing. 

“Hey, um,” Awsten said loudly so Ethan could hear him over his headphones. 

Ethan pulled one out. 

“Did you call Otto’s mom? Last semester.” 

“Uh…” 

“Cause if you did, um. I just wanna say thanks.”

“Oh,” Ethan murmured, looking a little nervous. “Yeah, I - I did.” 

“Well, thank you. He’s my best friend, and, um. Yeah. Just. Thanks. It helped him a lot.” 

Ethan nodded.

“I know I wasn’t around, so thanks for stepping up.” 

“Yeah.” 

Awsten nodded, done with what he wanted to say, and looked down at his cell phone intending to send Mr. W a text asking for a picture of Tuna.

“Um,” Ethan said, and Awsten looked up at him. “Do you want to watch Marco Polo with me?” 

“What’s that?” 

“It’s - it’s kind of like Game of Thrones, but it’s about Marco Polo.”

Awsten looked at him blankly.

“You know, the explorer?” 

“I just know the game you play in the pool. He was a real guy?”

Ethan chuckled. “Yeah, man. He’s like, a little younger than us, and he’s exploring the world. There’s, like, war and politics. It’s really good. You wanna see?”

“Is there gun stuff?” Awsten asked casually.

Ethan laughed at that. “Dude, it’s from a thousand years ago. They have catapults and swords and all that, but there were no guns. Sorry.” 

Awsten blinked in confusion and then realized that Ethan had thought that Awsten _wanted_ to see guns. “Oh. That’s okay.”

Ethan tilted his laptop toward him. “Do you wanna watch it with me? I just started a new episode a couple minutes ago." Almost backtracking, he hastily added, "I know it's kinda nerdy, but...” 

Awsten shrugged. “No, I'll watch.” 

Ethan unplugged his headphones, and Awsten grabbed Otto’s desk chair and dragged it over to the side of Ethan’s bed. Otto returned ten minutes later to find Awsten and Ethan chatting as the show played between them.

“Yeah, so he’s basically just-” Ethan stopped speaking when Otto came back in. “Oh, hey.” 

Otto smiled hesitantly. “You ready to go?” he asked Awsten.

“Uh, yeah.” He stood up and said to Ethan, “Thanks. It’s just called Marco Polo?” 

“Yep. On Netflix.” 

“Cool. Thanks. My dad might really like this.” The words slipped out before Awsten even realized what he was saying, but Ethan didn’t seem to detect that anything was strange about them.

“Lucky. My dad hates all this stuff. He just wants to watch football.” He shook his head. 

“We’ll be back later,” Otto told his roommate. “Do you, uh… want us to bring you anything from Barb’s?” 

Ethan looked surprised. “No, thanks. I’m meeting some people at the dining hall in an hour. But y’all have fun.”

Otto nodded. “Get your coat,” he directed Awsten, who obliged. 

“Bye,” Awsten said to him with a smile.

“Later,” Ethan waved.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Awsten whispered, “He seems awesome.”

“Yeah, well,” Otto replied at full volume.

“‘Yeah, well,’ what?” 

Otto shrugged. “He just got a front row seat to my fucked up brain, that’s all.” 

“Otto, he saved your life.” 

Otto snorted as they reached the end of the hall and turned into the stairwell. “He didn’t ‘save my life’ at all. I wasn’t gonna kill myself.”

“No, but you were gonna starve to death, and he stopped that from happening.” 

“I wasn't gonna 'starve to death,'" Otto repeated in annoyance, "but whatever. Can we not talk about it? I just wanna get a quesadilla.”

“I’m getting one of those giant burritos.” 

“Gross, noooo,” Otto moaned. 

“Oh, yeah,” Awsten grinned, making an obscene noise out of the corner of his mouth.

“You’re sleeping on the floor tonight!”

"Fuck you! No, I'm not!"

 

* * *

 

Geoff’s phone buzzed around eleven PM. He looked down at it in surprise; Awsten was calling.

“Hello?”

“Hi.” 

There was a silence.

“Are you al-?” Geoff began just as Awsten blurted, “I miss you.”

A small warmth bloomed in Geoff’s chest. “I see. I have missed you as well. Are you enjoying your time with Otto?”

“Yeah. It was pretty cold, but he won his game, and then we went to go get food at Mexican at the place he goes here. I met one of his friends from class cause she was working there, and his roommate seems cool, too.”

“That is nice.”

"Yeah."

There was another pause. Geoff decided to just wait.

“Um, how’s Tuna doing?”

“She is well. Sleeping on my lap as we speak.”

“Aww,” Awsten replied, and Geoff could hear the smile in his voice. “Give her a good scratch from me.”

“I will when she wakes. I do not want to disturb her.” 

“Okay. Um, so, I called cause I was wondering - I know I’m not home, but would you… Can you read? Just for a little bit?” 

“Aren’t you busy?” Geoff asked confusedly.

“Well, we’re kind of getting ready to go to bed, and Otto’s not allowed to have screens, you know, so. Also… it kind of just doesn’t feel right to me to go to sleep and not hear you read, so, um.” 

Geoff smiled. “Of course. Shall we continue with Percy Jackson?”

“Yeah. Let me go back in Otto’s room. Hang on.” 

“Where are you?”

“The hallway.” There was a sound of a light knock, and then Awsten reported, away from the receiver, “He said yes.”

“Oh, good,” came the hushed response.

“Just a second,” Awsten said apologetically into the phone, but Geoff was content to wait. He stroked Tuna's back as he listened to Otto and Awsten muttering to each other. There was an awful lot of rustling, maybe of clothing or sheets, and then things quieted down. “Okay, Mr. W, say something.”

“Like what?” Geoff wondered, and then Awsten inquired, “Did your side work?” 

Otto’s voice came over the line. “Yeah.”

“Good. Mine, too. Okay, Mr. W, we’re ready.”

“What are you two doing?”

“Oh, we put you in headphones,” Awsten explained. 

“I see. Otto, Awsten and I have been reading Percy Jackson.”

“I love those!”

“Oh, you are familiar?” Geoff asked, pleased. “We are near the beginning of the first one, but we’ve already read several pages.”

“That’s fine. I know what happens.”

“Excellent. Awsten, do you recall what had happened when we left off?” 

“Uh, Percy got expelled from school, and he was going home.”

“Yes.” Geoff softly cleared his throat and looked down at the novel in his hands. 

 

_ A sudden chill rolled through me. I felt like someone - something - was looking for me right now, maybe pounding its way up the stairs, growing long, horrible talons.  _

_ Then I heard my mom's voice. "Percy?"  _

_ She opened the bedroom door, and my fears melted.  _

_ My mother can make me feel good just by walking into the room. Her eyes sparkle and change color in the light. Her smile is as warm as a quilt. She's got a few gray streaks mixed in with her long brown hair, but I never think of her as old. When she looks at me, it's like she's seeing all the good things about me, none of the bad. I've never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word to anyone, not even me or Gabe.  _

_ "Oh, Percy." She hugged me tight. "I can't believe it. You've grown since Christmas!" Her red-white-and-blue Sweet on America uniform smelled like the best things in the world: chocolate, licorice, and all the other stuff she sold at the candy shop in Grand Central. She'd brought me a huge bag of "free samples," the way she always did when I came home.  _

_ We sat together on the edge of the bed. While I attacked the blueberry sour strings, she ran her hand through my hair and demanded to know everything I hadn't put in my letters. She didn't mention anything about my getting expelled. She didn't seem to care about that. But was I okay? Was her little boy doing all right?  _

_ I told her she was smothering me, and to lay off and all that, but secretly, I was really, really glad to see her. _

 

The rustling came again but stopped quickly. Geoff wondered if one of them had turned over in bed.

“Otto?” Awsten asked.

“Yeah?” came the tired response.

“Nothing.”

They quieted again, so Geoff continued.

 

_ Our rental cabin was on the south shore, way out at the tip of Long Island. It was a little pastel box with faded curtains, half sunken into the dunes. There was always sand in the sheets and spiders in the cabinets, and most of the time the sea was too cold to swim in. I loved the place. We'd been going there since I was a baby. My mom had been going even longer. She never exactly said, but I knew why the beach was special to her. It was the place where she'd met my dad. As we got closer to Montauk, she seemed to grow younger, years of worry and work disappearing from her face. Her eyes turned the color of the sea… _

_ "Are you going to send me away again?" I asked her. "To another boarding school?"  _

_ She pulled a marshmallow from the fire. "I don't know, honey." Her voice was heavy. "I think ... I think we'll have to do something."  _

_ "Because you don't want me around?" I regretted the words as soon as they were out.  _

_ My mom's eyes welled with tears. She took my hand, squeezed it tight. "Oh, Percy, no. I-I have to, honey. For your own good. I have to send you away."  _

_ Her words reminded me of what Mr. Brunner had said - that it was best for me to leave Yancy.  _

_ "Because I'm not normal," I said.  _

_ "You say that as if it's a bad thing, Percy. But you don't realize how important you are. I thought Yancy Academy would be far enough away. I thought you'd finally be safe."  _

_ "Safe from what?" She met my eyes, and a flood of memories came back to me - all the- _

 

“Hey, Mr. W?”

He jumped. “Oh - yes?” Awsten’s whisper had startled him.

“Um, Otto’s asleep, and I’m about to be, so we should probably hang up.”

“Oh, alright.” 

“Thanks for reading.”

“Of course. Thank you for listening.”

Awsten laughed quietly. “Yeah.” He didn’t speak, so Geoff didn’t either. 

Geoff petted Tuna and stayed on the line. 

“I’m glad you’re my family,” Awsten murmured. And then there was silence again. 

Geoff waited for nearly ten minutes - he’d gone back to his other book by then - before he ended the call. 

 

* * *

 

** February 15 **

The doorbell rang. 

Geoff looked up from his stack of papers. “Come in!”

There was silence.

“Is that Mr. Harrison?” Geoff wondered to Tuna. He set his pencil down and went over, but when he peeked though the peephole, all he saw was black. That was a bit unsettling. “Who is it?” he called. 

There were a few playful knocks in response. 

Carefully, Geoff opened the door and peeked around the edge. Then he smiled and relaxed. As he opened the door wider, he confessed, “You made me a bit nervous.” 

Awsten smiled back.

Geoff stepped back to let him enter. “Welcome home.”

Awsten’s smile grew. “Thanks.” 

Just as he stepped inside, Tuna came speeding toward him, meowing loudly. 

“Baby girl!” Awsten cried. He immediately dropped his bag and crouched down, which was good since Tuna decided to leap into the air. He caught her and laughed, squeezing her to his chest and repeatedly kissing the top of her head. “I missed you so much!” 

_Mrow!_ _Mrow! Mrow!_ Tuna replied, rubbing her face against Awsten’s shoulder as much as she could. 

Awsten and Geoff both laughed.

“Goodness gracious,” Geoff hummed. “It seems as though she has missed you greatly as well. I do know that she traveled upstairs more than once this weekend in search of you.”

“Were you looking for me?” Awsten asked her in that silly baby voice that he reserved for her. “Were you trying to find me while I was gone? Huh? Did you look for me? I’m so sorry I had to leave you.” He kissed her again.

Geoff, not knowing what to say, stated, “I have dinner on the stove if you are hungry.”

Awsten nodded fervently. “We didn’t eat in the car. What are you making?”

“Pot roast.”

“Fuck yeah,” Awsten groaned.

“And your favorite food.”

“Mashed potatoes?!”

“Yes.”

Awsten grinned. “Yeah! You’re the best!” 

Geoff chuckled and headed for the kitchen. 

“Can I tell you about my trip while we eat?” he asked, trailing after him with his duffle hanging over his shoulder and Tuna snug in his arms.

“Of course.” 

“Okay. Let me go put my bag in my room, and then I’ll come set the table.” 

“Alright.” 

“Come on, Tuna!” Awsten cried, and he whirled around, ran to the staircase, and thundered up the steps to his bedroom. 

Geoff shook his head. “I missed you,” he confessed under his breath. 

Thirty minutes later, they were settled at the table, wrapping up their meal. All that was left on Awsten’s plate was a little pile of green beans. Geoff’s plate was clean save for the few forkfuls of mashed potatoes that he had saved specifically so that Awsten would request to switch plates with him. 

“Anyway, what did you do while I was gone?” Awsten wondered. “Read a bunch of books and grade papers?”

“Actually, yes.”

Awsten snorted. “Of course.” 

“And I treated myself to an ice cream cone, which was lovely.” 

“An ice cream cone?!” Awsten echoed, outraged. “Without me?!” 

“Well, you were having a fun weekend away, and I-”

“Can I have that?” Awsten interrupted, pointing at Geoff’s plate.

“Yes, of course,” Geoff replied. He lifted it and passed it to him. 

“Thanks. Anyway, I was having a fun weekend and what?” 

“And I wanted an ice cream cone,” Geoff finished. 

“Well, that’s not very fair,” Awsten frowned, and Geoff chuckled. 

“Yes, well… It is over now.” 

“Fuck,” Awsten hissed, and Geoff looked up to see a pair of tears rolling down his cheeks. 

“Awsten,” he said anxiously. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Awsten said, his voice perfectly normal. He pressed his hands over his face for a second and then yelled, “Ugh, fuck!” 

“What is the matter?” Geoff asked concernedly. “If you really would like some ice cream, I am sure that we can-”

“No, fuck, it’s not about that. It’s - ugh. I actually don’t know _what_ it’s about.” 

Geoff watched him worriedly. 

“Goddammit,” Awsten whispered, smacking mercilessly at his forearm.

“Awsten,” Geoff said sharply, “do not harm yourself.” 

“I’m not, I just want it to stop!” With a hint of desperation in his watery eyes but his voice still steady as ever, he explained “I just - this keeps happening. This is the third time in two weeks.” 

“Why, do you think?” 

Frustratedly, Awsten shrugged. “I don’t fucking know. I just cry even though I feel fine.” 

“Perhaps you should lie down,” Geoff suggested hesitantly. He wasn’t sure what other advice to give. 

“It usually stops on its own, but, um. Yeah. Maybe.” He didn’t move, though. 

Geoff just stared at him.

“Once it happened at work while I was alone,” Awsten explained quietly, hurrying to wipe at the new tears as they kept streaming down his cheeks, “and I wasn’t even doing anything. I was just listening to music and cleaning and I just started crying. And then it happened here the other night when I was going to bed. And now it’s happening again. What the fuck?”

Geoff pursed his lips. _I believe that you are under an immense amount of stress,_ he wanted to respond, but he bit his tongue. 

“What the fuck?” he repeated, his tone turning to hot anger. He shoved away from the table and disappeared toward the bathroom. 

Geoff stared after him, entirely unsure of what to do. He began to clear the plates, but he was sure to leave the potatoes on the table in case Awsten wasn’t finished. A while later, though, the bathroom door flew open and Awsten disappeared around the corner. Geoff heard him jog up the front staircase a few moments later. 

 

* * *

 

_Dear friend,_

_I am writing to you because she said you listen and understand and didn’t try to sleep with that person at that party even though you could have. Please don’t try to figure out who she is because then you might figure out who I am, and I really don’t want you to do that. I will call people by different names or generic names because I don’t want you to find me. I didn’t enclose a return address for the same reason. I mean nothing bad by this. Honest._

_I just need to know that someone out there listens and understands and doesn’t try to sleep with people even if they could have. I need to know that these people exist._

_I think you of all people would understand that because I think you of all people are alive and appreciate what that means. At least I hope you do because other people look to you for strength and friendship and it’s that simple. At least that’s what I’ve heard._

_So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I’m still trying to figure out how that could be._

_I try to think of my family as a reason for me being this way, especially after my friend Michael stopped going to school one day last spring and we heard Mr. Vaughn’s voice on the loudspeaker._

_“Boys and girls, I regret to inform you that one of our students has passed on. We will hold a memorial service for Michael Dobson during assembly this Friday.”_

_I don’t know how news travels around school and why it is very often right. Maybe it was in the lunchroom. It’s hard to remember. But Dave with the awkward glasses told us that Michael killed himself. His mom played bridge with one of Michael’s neighbors and they heard the gunshot._

_I don’t really remember much of what happened after that except that my older brother came to Mr. Vaughn’s office in my middle school and told me to stop crying. Then, he put his arm on my shoulder and told me to get it out of my system before Dad came home. We then went to eat french fries at McDonald’s and he taught me how to play pinball. He even made a joke that because of me he got to skip an afternoon of school and asked me if I wanted to help him work on his Camaro. I guess I was pretty messy because he never let me work on his Camaro before._

_At the guidance counselor sessions, they asked the few of us who actually liked Michael to say a few words. I think they were afraid that some of us would try to kill ourselves or something because they looked very tense and one of them kept touching his beard._

_Bridget who is crazy said that sometimes she thought about suicide when commercials come on during TV. She was sincere and this puzzled the guidance counselors. Carl who is nice to everyone said that he felt very sad, but could never kill himself because it is a sin._

_This one guidance counselor went through the whole group and finally came to me._

_“What do you think, Charlie?”_

_What was so strange about this was the fact that I had never met this man because he was a “specialist” and he knew my name even though I wasn’t wearing a name tag like they do in open house._

_“Well, I think that Michael was a nice guy and I don’t understand why he did it. As much as I feel sad, I think that not knowing is what really bothers me.”_

_I just reread that and it doesn’t sound like how I talk. Especially in that office because I was crying still. I never did stop crying._

_The counselor said that he suspected that Michael had “problems at home” and didn’t feel like he had anyone to talk to. That’s maybe why he felt all alone and killed himself._

_Then, I started screaming at the guidance counselor that Michael could have talked to me. And I started crying even harder. He tried to calm me down by saying that he meant an adult like a teacher or a guidance counselor. But it didn’t work and eventually my brother came by the middle school in his Camaro to pick me up._

_For the rest of the school year, the teachers treated me different and gave me better grades even though I didn’t get any smarter. To tell you the truth, I think I made them all nervous._

 

* * *

 

** February 18 **

Awsten stumbled blearily down the back staircase with Tuna cradled in his arms. “Mr. W?” he called. 

“Yes?” Mr. W replied. He sounded like he was in the living room.

“Can I talk to you?” 

“Of course.” 

He wandered into the room, Mr. W coming into view in his armchair. “I had a bad dream,” Awsten said sadly. He nuzzled his face into the back of Tuna’s neck as he walked. 

“Oh, I am sorry to hear that.” 

“It wasn’t a nightmare like usual, but it was still a nightmare. A different kind of nightmare.” 

Mr. W nodded, and even through his exhaustion, Awsten could tell that the teacher was listening intently. 

“You didn’t want me to be here anymore.”

Mr. W’s eyebrows knitted together. “Whatever do you mean?” 

“We were in court cause they said I’d been here too long. I was only supposed to stay for two days, but I guess they extended it to ninety, cause I kind of remember that from a different dream. But they were like, ‘we found out that you’re still there, and now you’re in big trouble.’” With a closed fist, Awsten rubbed at his right eye. 

“And I told them,” Awsten continued, fighting off a yawn, “that we were a family now and that I didn’t want to leave, but I looked at you, and you were shaking your head like this.” Awsten slowly shook his head. “And you had a turn to talk on the stand and you said you didn’t want me anymore.” 

Even just repeating the story made Awsten’s stomach hurt. 

“That would not happen,” Mr. W promised, but it didn’t make Awsten feel any better. 

“You said it,” he insisted, “and so the judge banged his hammer thingy and said that I had to leave, except I didn’t have anywhere to go because I already stayed with Mom, too. So I had to go back to the woods, and you wouldn’t even let me take Tuna, and-” He cut himself off since his voice had begun to wobble. 

When Tuna had woken him up with loud meows and little nips at his shoulder, he’d been crying, but he’d stayed upstairs for nearly five minutes, trying to pull himself together. Apparently, he hadn’t waited long enough.

“I would never leave you to live alone in the woods. I can promise you that, Awsten."

“The guards came and they started dragging me away,” Awsten recounted in a whisper, ignoring Mr. W’s words. “I was so scared and so mad at you and so sad, and I was yelling to you to please not to do this to me, but you did, and…” Awsten looked at him with anxious eyes. “I don’t want you to want me to go away.” 

“I do not,” Mr. W promised. “Frankly, I would be happy if you stayed for quite a long time.”

“I know I keep fucking up, and I know _I’m_ fucked up, but-”

Mr. W interrupted, “Awsten, you’ve explained it already yourself. You said that we are a family now. And we are.” 

Awsten stared at Mr. W for a long time. Mr. W stared back. 

It was Tuna who finally broke the silence with a small _Mrow!_

Mr. W looked down at her and then returned his focus to Awsten. “It is very late,” he said gently, "and you look exhausted. Perhaps it is time that you went back to bed.” 

Awsten shook his head and wordlessly leaned sideways so that his head was resting on the arm of the sofa. “I wanna stay here,” he said softly. 

Tuna hopped out of his arms and went over to Mr. W, gracefully leaping up onto his thigh. 

“Very well. But I will need to sleep in my bedroom when it is time.” 

Awsten nodded. “Yeah.” 

“Shall I wake you when I retire?” 

“No.” 

“Very well. Shall I read to you for a bit?” 

Awsten shook his head. “No, you can keep working. I just wanna be in here with you.” 

“I see.” 

By the time Mr. W turned off the lamp, Awsten had been asleep for nearly an hour. 

 

* * *

 

** February 20 **

Mr. W’s voice drifted up from the kitchen. “Awsten! We really must be going now!” 

“I’m coming!” Awsten yelled back. “Just a second!” He didn’t move, though - just stood and stared at his reflection in the mirror. Finally, he took a deep breath. “Okay,” he muttered to himself. One more peek at the counter, one more quick scrub at the dark spot that had formed on its surface, and then he started out of the bathroom and down the stairs. 

“Oh, good,” Mr. W murmured at the sound of his footsteps, and he slid a bookmark between the pages of his novel and went to get his keys. “Say farewell to Tuna, and let us depart.”

Awsten crouched down behind the island to scratch the cat, but he didn’t speak. When he stood back up, Mr. W glanced over, and his face went pale. There were a few seconds of silence, and then - 

“Oh!” the teacher cried.

Awsten chuckled. “It’s just me.” 

The pure alarm in Mr. W’s eyes made Awsten smile wider. 

“You… I…”

“You hate it,” Awsten supplied, and when Mr. W shook his head, he shrugged. “It’s okay. You’ll get used to it.” 

“I do not hate it,” Mr. W countered, still flustered. “I was merely - I did not recognize you.”

Awsten half-rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I got that part.” 

“Is that what you have been doing all afternoon?” 

He nodded. “Yeah.” Then he motioned toward the door to the garage. “I thought we were in a big hurry to get to therapy.” 

“Oh - yes, we are. Come. We must be off.” 

Awsten followed Mr. W to the car, the shocked expression on Mr. W’s face frozen in his mind. That had been exactly the reaction he’d been going for. He smiled to himself as he ran his fingers through his jet black hair. 

 

* * *

 

“You just keep surprising me,” Rian stated as he and Awsten settled into their seats.

Awsten forced a smile and reached up to mess with his hair. “Yeah.”

“Why the change?” 

He shrugged. “Just… felt like it was time.”

“And why black?”

Awsten thought for a moment. “I dye my hair how I feel.”

“You used to feel like…?”

“White-blonde. Kind of… empty, I guess.”

“And now you feel like the color black?”

He nodded. 

“Okay. Can you tell me about that?”

“I don’t know. My head hurts all the time, and I just don’t feel good.” 

“Your head hurts all the time?” Rian repeated. 

“Uh-huh.”

“What kind of headaches are you having?”

“The painful kind,” Awsten replied flatly. At Rian’s cocked eyebrow, he said, “I don’t know what they’re called. They just suck.”

“Where does it hurt?”

“Well, I’m not having one _now._ ”

“But when you do,” Rian prompted patiently. 

Awsten laid his hand over his forehead “Here,” he said, and then moved it around to the back where he set it down again, “and here.” 

The therapist began to write. “Okay. Have you been experiencing any other pain?”

“Yeah. Here.” He rubbed at the sides of his jaw and tapped at his temples. “That kind I’m having now.”

Rian tipped his head to one side as he looked over his patient. “Relax your back teeth,” he instructed. 

Awsten did, and some of the pressure was instantly alleviated. Whoa.

“Better?” Rian asked.

“A little.” 

“Do you wake up with it hurting?” 

“Sometimes.” 

Rian nodded. “How much does it usually hurt? Just in general, whenever it happens. Scale of one to ten.”

Awsten flashed back to Lucas asking him similar questions during a meeting at Peace and Purpose. Suddenly, he missed his old counselor. “Uh… Like a three.”

Rian nodded as he wrote. “Okay. And have you told anybody about this?” 

“I’m telling you.” 

Rian rephrased. “Have you told Mr. W or your mother?”

“No.”

“Why not?” 

“I mean, I guess Mr. W knows I had a bunch of headaches, but he doesn’t know I get them all the time. I talked about them at first, but now I try to just suck it up.”

“Why don’t you tell him?”

“Cause what’s he gonna do about it? All he does is offer me medicine and water.”

“And what do you do?” 

“Say no to the medicine but take the water.”

“You never take the medicine?”

Sharply, Awsten shook his head. 

Rian studied his eyes. “Is it Advil or Tylenol or something like that?”

“Yeah.”

“And you won’t take it?”

He shook his head again.

“Why not?” 

“Cause. I just don’t want it.” He hoped Rian couldn’t tell that he was lying. 

“If you’re worried about addiction, I can assure you that-”

“I’m not.” 

Frankly, Rian pointed out, “Well, you seem pretty agitated for someone who just doesn’t want it.”

Awsten glared at him.

Rian inquired carefully, “Has anyone ever used medicine to hurt you?” 

Awsten stared intently at the carpet but nodded.

Rian gave him several moments and then asked, “When was this?”

“When I was a kid,” Awsten muttered. 

“Who?”

He swallowed. “My parents. My… usually my mom. To get me to go to sleep when she got tired of me.” 

“This is a memory, or this is something you’ve been told?”

“A ton of memories.” 

Rian nodded sadly. “I’m sorry, Awsten.” 

“It’s fine.” 

_It’s not fine_ , Lucas countered in Awsten’s head, and Awsten slowly pulled his knees up so he could hide his face in them. Every time he exhaled, his hot breath bounced back at him. 

“Your biological mother,” Rian began carefully, but he stopped. 

Awsten was glad. He didn’t want to hear whatever it was Rian was going to say, didn’t want to answer whatever question Rian had been about to ask. He wanted to be difficult. He wanted to act out and make Rian mad so that Rian would leave him alone and he could go home.

“Let’s go back to your hair,” Rian decided. “You said part of the reason you dyed it black is because you ‘don’t feel good.’ What does that mean?” 

“I just don’t,” came the terse reply. 

“Can you give me some more?” 

Awsten shook his head. 

“Why not?” 

“Don’t want to.” 

There was the sound of Rian setting his pen down. “Awsten, what’s going on right now?” 

“Nothing.” His voice was still muffled in his knees, so he wasn’t at all surprised when Rian asked him to repeat himself. He was, however, annoyed. “Nothing!”

“This doesn’t seem like nothing.” 

“Well, it is.”

“Do you want to talk about something else?” 

“No, I want to leave,” Awsten snapped. “I wanna go home now.” 

“Why?” 

“I just do. I thought I wanted to come, but I didn’t.”

“What made you change your mind?” 

“Nothing, I just don’t feel good.” 

“What about you doesn’t feel good?” 

“I don’t _know._ ” 

“Take a breath-”

“I don’t want to!” Awsten yelled, his head snapping up so he could glare at his therapist. “I don’t want to be here, and I don’t want to talk to you, and I just fucking want to go home!” 

Unfazed, Rian asked, “What do you want to do at home?”

“Get in bed!” 

“Have you been spending a lot of time in bed?” 

“Why does it matter?!” Awsten yelled. He had planned to stand up and storm out, but the yelling actually felt kind of good. “Why do you ask me so many fucking questions?! You don’t care about me! So what if I spend time in bed? Everybody does! Everybody does, especially when somebody they’ve known since they were a kid fucking shoots themselves in the head two feet in front of them and bleeds like a fucking garden hose and they can’t do a fucking thing to stop it! How would you like that, Rian? Do you want to see that? Maybe then you’ll know why I don’t fucking feel good!” 

There were several seconds of silence. 

Awsten refused to break eye contact with Rian as he caught his breath.

Again, and perfectly calmly, Rian asked, “Have you been spending a lot of time in bed?” 

Awsten scoffed. “Seriously? Fuck you, Rian.” 

“Alright,” Rian responded evenly, and he set his notepad down and stood up. “Time to move.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” 

He grabbed his coffee and his keys. “Yes, you are. Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“To another room to blow off some steam.” 

“What?”

“Come on.” And he opened the door. “Let’s go.” 

Awsten shook his head. “No.” 

“Listen, Awsten, you can yell at me all you want. That’s fine.” Rian kind of smiled. “You think you’re the first client to tell me to fuck off?” 

He shifted uncomfortably.

“If you try it and hate it, we can come back. But I want you to keep yelling at me, because you clearly need it. The problem is, there are other sessions going on here, and we can’t disrupt them.” Rian motioned for him to stand and follow him. “There’s something I want you to see.”

Awsten just stared.

“You know the sand tray?” 

Nod.

“It’s a whole room full of stuff like that.” 

Grudgingly, Awsten got up. He grabbed the throw off the back of the couch and stated firmly, “I’m taking this or I’m not coming.” 

Rian just held the door for him. 

Awsten draped the blanket around his shoulders and pulled it together in the front like a superhero cape, and off they went. 

They walked down a hallway, up a flight of stairs, and down two more halls before stopping at a piece of paper that was hanging on the wall. It looked like some sort of schedule, but Awsten didn’t have the capacity to try to interpret it at that moment. Using his knuckles, he rubbed roughly at the underside of his jaw. 

“Okay,” Rian said after staring at the page for a few seconds. “Three twelve.” They walked a little further and came to a stop in front of a room marked 312. Using a key from his overflowing lanyard, Rian unlocked the door, and Awsten pulled in a little gasp as he got a look inside. 

“Cool, huh?”

“What is this place?”

“This is a play therapy room,” Rian explained. “We mostly use it for kids, but anybody can benefit from this stuff. I loved when we got to come into places like this in grad school.” 

Awsten wandered around the edges of the room, taking in the shelves and shelves of toys. Markers, paper, crayons, paints, brushes, safety scissors, glue… Plastic sharks, bears, snakes, tigers, dinosaurs, lions… Dolls of all shapes and sizes, action figures, stuffed animals, army men… Footballs, basketballs, soccer balls, tennis balls… A play kitchen with tons of food, a chalkboard, a dollhouse, a train set, an easel, a toy piano… Bubble wrap, aluminum foil, rhythm sticks, a box of toy trucks and cars, buckets filled with multicolored Legos…

Awsten reached into a little container filled with superballs and pulled out one that looked like a gumball.

“You can use whatever you want however you want,” Rian told him.

“I can just… throw it?” Awsten asked, looking from the ball to Rian.

He nodded. 

“Like, hard?”

“Go for it.”

Awsten threw it as hard as he could at the ground. It ricocheted up to smack the ceiling - which got Awsten to crack a small smile - before bouncing several times on the tile floor. Rian stepped out of its path at one point but otherwise just watched. Encouraged, Awsten grabbed a bunch of them and threw them in quick succession onto the ground and let them slam into the ceiling. Once several were going at the same time, creating chaos in the quiet space, he sat down on the ground and admired his work. They eventually slowed to a stop, but Awsten didn’t get up. 

Rian came over and crouched down beside him. “How are you doing?”

Awsten shrugged. 

“You wanna play with something else?” 

Very suddenly, Awsten felt like crying. For a moment, he wondered if he should let himself. The moment lasted too long, though, because Rian seemed to catch on. 

The therapist sat beside him on the tile and set his coffee down, too. “What’s going through your head?” he asked softly. 

Awsten swallowed. It felt like something heavy was pressing on his chest. “Um, just. Just… I haven’t been able to do anything like that since I was little. And, um. Home alone.”

Rian nodded.

“I couldn’t do it at Otto’s or at school, and, um…” He wanted one of the little balls. The closest one was a marbled lime green and white, and he leaned over and picked it up just to have something to fidget with while he spoke. “I don’t miss that at all. But growing up sucks, too.” 

Rian didn’t speak. 

“I think I’m really upset,” Awsten said quietly. 

“About what?”

“I don’t know. Everything. I miss having a routine like at Peace and Purpose, and I miss Otto even though we talk every day, and right now I kind of don’t know anything. Like I don’t know where I’ll be in six months or if I’m supposed to try to go to college or if I want to have kids some day or what job I’m supposed to have. It’s like at first, nobody knows, and then one day, everybody knows. But what if I never figure it out? Like, Otto’s known his whole life what he wants to be. And Alex, one of my friends from last year, he doesn’t know what he wants to do when he grows up, but he moved back to Maryland to live with his parents, and he’s starting college. That was always his plan. I never had a plan.” 

Before Rian could offer him any advice, Awsten continued, “And I… I just.” 

This was hopeless. There was no way he’d be able to say anything else without crying. Preemptively, he used the back of his wrist to swipe at his nose. “I just feel really bad all the time. Like I’m waiting for something awful to happen even when nothing is. I’m fucking bored, just being at the yogurt place and waiting around for Mr. W to come home, but I’m scared that if I stop being bored and go out and actually do shit, that somebody else is gonna…” Tightly, Awsten squeezed the ball. 

“Somebody else is gonna what?” Rian asked softly.

“You know what,” Awsten whispered. 

There was silence.

“Can you give me a hint?” Rian suggested. 

“Like at school,” came the hushed response.

“School… Are you referencing The Incident with Michael?” 

Awsten nodded. 

“Can you remind me what happened?” Rian asked, and his voice was so gentle and so soft that Awsten felt like a child again.

“I, um… I went to school, and - and he had a huge machine gun. And he put it on my back and we went outside and I tried to stop him…” Hot tears stung Awsten’s eyes, but he didn’t brush them away. “He wouldn’t listen to me, a-and he put the gun in his mouth, and…” Awsten pulled his blanket tighter around himself. “And then it was so loud, and then he was dead and I - I thought he was going to wake up, but he didn’t. He didn’t. And they put the sheet on him, and I never saw him again.” 

Slowly, almost cautiously, Rian murmured to him, “And was that real or not real?”

“Real,” Awsten whispered. He shut his eyes, and he squeezed the bouncy ball in his hand as hard as he could, but two tears streamed down his cheeks. He quietly moaned. “Real, it was fucking real…” 

“Good, Awsten,” Rian responded softly. 

“I wanna go home,” Awsten pleaded. 

“No, let’s feel this for a while. You don’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to. But let’s just sit here in this feeling, okay?” 

“No, no, I - I don’t want to. I don’t like it.” 

“I know you don’t like it, Awsten, and that’s why it’s important. You’ve been pushing this away for too long.”

He sniffed loudly. “I don’t care.”

“I do. I want you to close your eyes and-”

“No!” Awsten spat. “I’m not doing any more of this stupid bullshit with you!”

“You’re angry,” Rian observed.

“Yeah, no shit!” 

“Why?” 

“Cause I don’t want to talk about it!” He felt stupid, yelling with tears on his cheeks in this colorful playroom for little kids, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Why not?” 

“Cause it was the worst day of my fucking life! He fucking shot himself right in front of my fucking face, Rian! My hand was on the goddamn gun when he pulled the trigger! Do you know what that felt like?!”

“No,” Rian replied calmly.

“It felt like _I was the one who pulled it_! Like I fucking killed him, okay?!” With no warning, he fired the superball across the room. “Why didn’t he kill me first?!” 

“I don’t know, Awsten. I never met Michael. I can’t-”

“ _Stop saying his name!_ ”

“It’s painful for you?”

“Yeah, it’s fucking ‘painful’ for me,” Awsten snapped. 

“Why?”

The response was almost hysterical. “Because you’re the only one who fucking says it!” 

“Awsten, it sounds like I’m the only person who talks about this with you at all.” 

“You are! And I wish you would fucking stop.” The tears had stopped, and all that was left was anger. 

Across the room, the superball was still bouncing.

“How do you feel when we discuss The Incident?” 

“Mad.”

“Mad how?”

“Will you stop asking me so many questions?!” 

Evenly, Rian asked, “How do the questions make you feel?” 

“UGH!” Awsten yelled, clawing at his hair. “Fucking stop!” 

Rian stood up, and he reached down and gently pulled Awsten up with him. “Come here.” He led him to a stack of empty cardboard egg cartons, one of which he transferred into Awsten’s hands. “I want you to keep talking to me, and I want you to crunch this up while you do it, okay?” 

“I don’t want to!” he said, punctuating the words by firing the carton into Rian’s chest. 

“Good, Awsten,” Rian praised, and he handed him another one. “Tell me what it’s like when you hear Michael’s name.” 

“Like my skin is crawling,” he spat, shoving two of his fingers through the bottom of the package. 

“What’s it like when you picture him in your mind?” 

“Gross,” he said, puncturing another section. “Whether he looks normal or not, he’s gross. I hate looking at him. I _hate_ him!” He threw the carton onto the ground and stomped on it. “And I don’t forgive him!” 

“Why not?”

“Because he ruined my life!” Awsten shouted, but as the words left his lips, he wasn’t sure if he believed them. He rephrased. “He changed me forever,” he spat, and he felt a second round of tears welling up. “He fucked me up right when things were starting to be okay for the first time in a really, really long time. I thought I was gonna be okay. And he fucked it up and took all of that away from me. I won’t ever be the person I was before he fucking KILLED HIMSELF RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME!”

A sob escaped him, and he buried his face in his hands. And then, loudly, freely, Awsten began to cry. 

“Good,” Rian whispered, and he set a hand on each of Awsten’s shoulders. “Good, Awsten, you’re doing great.” 

Awsten didn’t care. He felt horrible.

He stepped forward so that his forehead was resting on the center of Rian’s chest, and he sobbed. He cried for the boy who had walked into school with hope in his heart, the boy who had been ready to genuinely try to do well for once. He cried for the boy who had managed to do every last bit of his homework the night before but would never get to turn it in. He cried for the feeling of being ripped away from Otto and Mom when he’d been sent to Peace and Purpose. He cried for the nightmares he'd endured and for the sleepless nights he’d spent avoiding them. He cried for the way that even now, almost a year later and despite the charade of being fine that he put on every day, he was still so broken.

Rian was silent as Awsten wept, keeping his hands on Awsten’s shoulders and letting Awsten sob into his chest, not embracing him but never pushing him away. 

Awsten didn’t know how long he spent crying, but it had to have been minutes. Eventually, he slowed and stepped back, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve and looking to Rian for some sort of direction. 

“Are you all finished?” Rian asked softly. 

Awsten nodded. 

“Why don’t you sit,” Rian suggested, “and I’ll grab you some water, okay? Just from right there?” He pointed at a cabinet.

Awsten went over to a colorful rug in a corner and sat down on one of the squares. He propped himself up against the wall, pulled his knees to his chest like before, and adjusted the blanket. Rian came back with a water bottle, and Awsten reached up and took it from him and drank a little sip. 

“How do you feel?” Rian asked as he sat down on the rug, too.

“Tired,” Awsten replied truthfully, “and I want my dad.” 

Rian looked at him. 

Awsten would have felt surprised at himself and probably taken the words back if he hadn’t been so drained, but he let them stay out in the air. 

“Is your dad the person who drove you here today?” Rian wondered.

Awsten nodded.

“The same person I met last month?”

He nodded again.

“I see.” 

It was quiet in the room for two or three minutes. Awsten just sipped at his water and breathed. 

“Do you want to play some more? We’ve still got some time.” 

“In a little bit,” Awsten murmured. 

“Okay.”

“I’m still tired right now.” 

Rian gave him a small smile. “Okay,” he said again.

 

* * *

 

_ February 24, 2015 _

_ Awsten broke down crying again this evening. I would expect it to be an overflow of sadness or anxiety, but he seems so genuinely vexed when it happens that I do believe him when he says he doesn’t feel anything negative. Perhaps they are unconscious feelings. _

_ I have had quite a mind to call Rian (his therapist) to let him know that Awsten’s nightmares have been growing worse. He is yelling or crying two, sometimes three times per week. I do not know if this is how Awsten behaved immediately following The Incident, as he calls it, but I do know that this cannot be healthy. I have noticed that he seems more tired, which makes me wonder whether he has reduced his sleep in the hopes of avoiding his dreams. It would not be the first time.  _

_ I am at a bit of a loss. I have read every book I can find about trauma that seems applicable and have done hours and hours’ worth of research on post-traumatic stress, but I am not qualified to help Awsten in any way. Everything I suggest to him is shut down instantaneously. _

_ Things were easier in December. Not easy - never easy. Warmer, perhaps. Simpler. Lighter. _

_ Yes… I must call Rian and make him aware of what has been going on. Awsten cannot continue on like this, and neither can I. Every evening, I wait in the living room to see whether or not he will begin shouting. Sometimes for me, sometimes for Otto, sometimes for his mother. Most nights, he merely pleads for help or for things to stop. And then, after I wake him (or he wakes himself, which is also happening more and more), he spills the contents of his dream out of his mouth and into my ears, and I am forced to bear the weight of his imagination as well.  _

_ I would be happy that he trusts me enough to share, but it is not that; he would tell whoever happened to be by his side. He wakes panicked and confused, his hands trembling, his heart pounding. He does claw at me occasionally and scratch my skin, but it is out of fear and desperation, not the desire to harm me. Never the desire to harm me.  _

_ Regardless of his intention, this cannot continue. None of it. He needs help. He is so reluctant to take any medication, but I do not know what else could possibly make a substantial difference.  _

_ His screams tear my heart open. _

 

* * *

 

** February 26 **

“Has your headache improved?” Geoff asked. 

Awsten glared at him, his eyes electric in contrast to his black hair. “Why do you care?”

Geoff’s eyebrows rose, but he decided to give Awsten a chance to retract the words. “Pardon me?”

“Never mind,” Awsten muttered as he turned back around. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Awsten,” Geoff said sternly.

“No!” he said, whirling around. “Why do you care? It’s just a stupid headache! It doesn’t matter!”

“It does matter, and I care because you are important to me.” 

“Well, I shouldn’t be.”

Concernedly, Geoff asked, “Why would you say something like that?” 

Awsten shook his head and started angrily upstairs, but Geoff called him again. He whipped around, his arms crossed over his chest. “ _What_?”

Geoff watched him evenly until he dropped his arms and sighed loudly. 

“I feel like Otto!” he spat, holding his hands out to the sides and then slamming them roughly back down. “What am I pissed about? Why do I cry for no reason? Why am I like this right now? Nothing happened. Nothing fucking happened!” 

“Awsten, perhaps… perhaps this is the anniversary effect.”

“No,” he snapped. “I don’t have that.” 

“Would you come here, please?” 

“Why?”

Geoff pursed his lips.

With another dramatically loud sigh, Awsten stomped down the stairs and over to the teacher. “What?” 

Geoff stepped forward and gently wrapped his arms around him. “Things will become easier again soon.” He held his breath, fully expecting Awsten to shove away from him, but the teenager melted into his chest instead. 

“What’s wrong with me?” he pleaded quietly. 

_February is ending. It is nearly March._ “Nothing is wrong with you. You experienced a trauma.” 

“A _year_ ago.” Before Geoff could say anything, he hurriedly added, “I’m really sorry I’m being such an asshole. It’s not your fault.”

“It is not yours, either. It is painful for me, I do admit, but I also recognize that you are not attempting to be harmful.” 

He pressed his face deeper into Geoff’s chest. “Why are you always so fucking nice to me?”

“Because I care for you,” Geoff responded simply.

“Yeah, I care about you, too, and look at what I’m doing.” 

“You have been through much more than I have.” 

Awsten pulled back. “What was it like?” he asked, looking a few inches up at him.

“What was what like?”

“The lockdown. Were… were you scared?”

Geoff nodded, and he was vaguely aware that he suddenly had a far-away look in his eyes. “I was, yes.” 

“What happened?” 

For a long moment, Geoff studied Awsten. He didn’t know what to say or whether he should say anything at all. But he could tell that Awsten needed desperately to talk about the fifth, even if there was almost no other topic that Geoff would rather avoid more. “Shall we sit?” Geoff finally asked. 

“Yeah.” 

Together, they went from the kitchen into the living room. Geoff took his usual place in his armchair, and Awsten settled into the nearest spot on the sofa. 

“It was a normal morning,” Geoff recounted softly. “Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. You were absent, as was Michael. The bell rang, and Alex made me aware that you were making your way in from the parking lot.” 

Awsten’s face was perfectly blank.

“I responded that I was unable to mark you present until you had made it into class but thanked him for telling me. Then I asked if anyone had seen Michael, but no one had, and we begun discussing the reading from the night before. If I remember correctly, it was the very first day we met after I assigned The Five People You Meet in Heaven.”

“Yeah. I only ever talked to you about it at Peace and Purpose.” 

Geoff nodded. “We had barely even begun when the phone rang and the lockdown went into effect.” Cassadee’s tearstained face appeared in his mind, and he shut his eyes. “My students did not hear the message, so I had to tell them multiple times to stand. Eventually, they obeyed, and they made their way behind my desk.”

“Behind your desk?” Awsten repeated. 

“Yes.” 

“Oh,” he murmured, sounding distant. “I always pictured everybody in the back corner.” 

“No, we were all hidden behind my desk. I pushed it back diagonally to block us in. I read a few months afterwards that it is safer to spread everyone out throughout the room, but there would have been nothing to… shield anyone.” Saying the words made Geoff’s stomach turn. 

“Did they say Michael had a gun?”

“On the phone call?”

Awsten nodded.

“No. It was an automated recording, and there was no specific information about what was taking place, although we did overhear the SWAT team in the hallway discussing it a bit later. All we were told initially was that we were to lock our doors and turn off our lights and that police had been notified of the situation.” 

There was a silence so long and so heavy that Geoff’s brain tuned in to the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the entry for nearly a full minute.

“Were the kids,” Awsten whispered, “okay? Were they scared?”

“Everyone was incredibly frightened,” Geoff replied, forcing a sad smile. “There were many tears. Not from Zack, and not from me, but everyone else.”

“Even Cassadee?” Awsten asked in slight surprise.

Geoff didn’t want to answer; he knew that he should protect her privacy. But in that moment, he didn’t feel as though he were speaking to Awsten as a teacher. He felt like… someone else. “Yes,” he admitted. “It was highly distressing for everyone. She was not visibly upset until after the gun had been fired, though.” 

There was another long silence. Geoff began focusing on the ticks again. He had nearly become absorbed in them when Awsten asked, “What happened when he did, um…”

“When the bullet fired?” Geoff supplied gently.

Awsten nodded.

“Chaos,” Geoff replied. He pressed his fingers to his lips as the memories flooded back. “Hushed, panicked chaos. We could not tell exactly where the shot had come from since it was so loud and had echoed everywhere. And-” He quickly cut himself off.

“What?” Awsten asked nervously.

“Well… we heard _you_.” 

Awsten looked confused.

“I do not know if you will recall this, but almost instantly after the sound of the gun, you screamed. We - _I -_ thought that someone had been injured and was in pain. It was only afterward that I pieced everything together and realized that it was you who made the sound.” 

“That’s embarrassing,” Awsten replied, but his voice was barely above a whisper.

“No,” Geoff protested, shaking his head. “No, Awsten. I do not know how you weren’t much more vocal than you were. I certainly would have been.”

“Rian says,” Awsten began loudly, but he swallowed and lowered his voice. “Rian says you don’t know how you’ll react to something that scary until it’s happening to you. And then sometimes after, you can’t even remember what you did.” 

Geoff nodded. “I believe that.” 

“I think if it was you… you wouldn’t have said anything at all. I think you would have just stood there and watched him bleed.” Awsten was short of breath. His wild eyes met Geoff’s. “I tried to put his brain back in his head,” he confessed a little desperately. “It came out in a couple pieces on the ground, and I was digging through the blood trying to get them together so I could put them in again.”

Geoff felt overwhelmingly nauseous.

“The police were yelling at me, so I stopped. But yeah, that’s why I was all covered in blood. Some sprayed on me when he fired the gun cause I was so close, but I went around behind him and kneeled down right in it to try to fix him.” He sounded like he was having a fair amount of trouble breathing, but he continued talking. “It was like nothing else mattered, nothing, just - just trying to put him back together so he’d be okay. He was dead already, but I really, really thought that he would be okay if I could just-” Awsten took one deep breath and then another, and he covered his mouth with his forearm and forced out a strange-sounding cough. 

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” came the tight reply. 

“Would you like a glass of water?” Geoff asked.

He shook his head. “I want to talk about this with you.” 

Geoff had been afraid of that. “Very well.” 

“Rian… he tries to understand it, and he’s good at it sometimes. But you knew… him. You knew him. And you were there.” 

Geoff nodded.

“And you were there for me after, and I think that’s what changed everything. Because you - you always come when the bad thing is over. When you show up, it means everything is okay.” 

Geoff’s heart twinged in his chest. 

“I used to hear you in my head sometimes at Peace and Purpose,” he admitted, his eyes focused down on his hands, “telling me it was okay or that the bad stuff had stopped. Even if everything was fine and I was like, sitting in the school room doing my homework, my brain would be like, ‘I’ve got you. It’s over now,’ in your voice, and I felt like I could relax. I know it’s so stupid, but-”

“That is _not_ stupid,” Geoff interrupted, his tone firm but his voice trembling. 

Awsten looked up at him and saw the emotion that had filled his eyes.

“I thought of you every day,” Geoff told him. “I would see your empty chair and his and feel guilt or sadness or anger. But I would return home in the afternoon and…” It was Geoff’s turn to create a long silence.

The grandfather clock was audible again, but Geoff ignored it and instead began debating internally about whether or not to bring Awsten into his bedroom for a few moments. 

Awsten waited patiently. 

“May I show you something?” Geoff finally said. 

Awsten nodded.

“It is in my closet. Come.” 

They stood, and Geoff led the way down the hall and into his bedroom. He stayed near the right wall and crossed to a door, which he opened. Once he turned the light on, he stepped inside and motioned for Awsten to follow him. Then he walked all the way down to the very end of his row of shirts and removed a pale blue dress shirt from its hanger. There was a smear of browned blood on the left shoulder.

“I intended to deliver this to the dry cleaner,” Geoff said quietly, “but every time I gathered my clothing to drop off, at the last moment, I elected to leave it behind. In the beginning, it was because I was not sure how to explain it. I was afraid that I might be faced with questions, and I believed that speaking about the - the Incident, as you refer to it - would be too painful. After time had passed, I became convinced that the stain would have set and would be a problem for the people at the shop. Now, I do not think I could bear to ask for someone to remove it. I looked at it so often in the beginning. Not nearly so much anymore, but… it has become a piece of me. I am not ready to part with it.” 

Geoff slowly turned the shirt around and looked down at the two large, dark splotches right in the middle. 

“Is that…” Awsten breathed. He was as white as a ghost.

“Yes. His blood. From your hands,” Geoff murmured, and Awsten stumbled forward. He brushed his fingers over the ruined fabric and started to weakly cry. “Oh, Awsten,” Geoff hummed quietly.

“I don’t know where my c-clothes are from that day,” he said, choking a little on the sobs. “I want them.” 

Geoff frowned. 

“Thank you for not washing this,” Awsten added sadly, pulling it gently out of Geoff’s hands and pressing it to his chest. Then he sank down onto the floor, still hugging the shirt, and allowed himself to shed a few tears. 

Geoff followed him down. “I am so sorry, Awsten,” he murmured. 

“I’m not crying about the clothes,” he sobbed. 

“Yes… I understand.” 

Geoff sat silently, wiping at his own eyes every once in a while as Awsten let some of his emotions out. 

“It’s not fair,” Awsten said angrily as his tears slowed. 

“What isn’t?” 

“That he’s the one that did this, but you still have your bloody clothes a year later, and I’m on the fucking ground crying about it. It’s not fair. _He_ did this to us! _He_ should have to suffer!”

Geoff didn’t know what to say or even what to think. 

“He hurt all of us! What he did to Otto? Otto feels awful all the time, and he’s so fucking scared of everything, and he won't try to make friends because he thinks he’s a monster and he’s never gonna get better. He’s not a monster. He’s my best fucking friend! Half the time now, he and his dad are mad at each other, and they used to never fight about anything! It’s all his fault! I hate him! I hate him, Mr. W!”

“I know,” Geoff whispered. He thought of Emily and her untied shoe and the rattling pills in her sweatshirt pocket. He thought of Alex bursting into tears in the hallway when he laid eyes on the spilled coffee and the way he’d asked when school resumed if Michael had been coming to kill them, his voice quiet and emotionless. He thought of the awkwardness at graduation when no one had known what to say. He looked at Awsten right in front of him, eyes bloodshot from crying on the floor of Geoff’s own closet, still in a great deal of pain because of what Michael had done eleven months previously. And finally, Geoff thought of Michael’s essay and how, if Geoff had stopped being so selfish and turned it in to the guidance counselor instead of trying to be a hero, perhaps none of this would have happened at all. 

“I’m so sorry,” Awsten muttered, burying his face in the shirt as his eyes filled with tears again. “I’m sorry, Mr. W. This is all my fault. I killed him. I killed him, and I hurt Otto and his parents, and I hurt you and everybody else, too. It’s all my fault. I killed him, and I’m so fucking sorry.” 

“It is not your fault,” Geoff responded emphatically. “Awsten, you did nothing wrong - nothing at all. You harmed no one. Had you not been so brave, it is likely that we all would have lost our lives.”

“He should have at least killed me before he killed himself,” Awsten protested. 

“Awsten…”

He sat up a little, just enough to be able to see his teacher. Then he wiped his nose with the back of his wrist and said, “I used to wish he had all the time, and I didn’t for the last couple months. Thanksgiving and Christmas and Otto being home and me getting to hang out with you and all that. But right now, it fucking hurts. And I wish he’d killed me.”

“No,” Geoff whispered, and he slid forward a few inches so that he could look at him properly. “Do not say that.”

“But it’s true!” 

There were no words in Geoff’s expansive vocabulary to make this better. There was nothing he could say, nothing he could promise that would ever stop Awsten’s pain. The only thing he could offer was, “The best part of all of this mess - in my opinion - was that you survived it.” 

Awsten sniffed hard and sat up. 

“Had you not survived, the world would be much darker, Awsten. Not only for Otto and for your mother, for your friends, for the school and the community as a whole, but for me as well. I would not be the person I am today. Going to visit you gave me purpose. Every week, I had something to look forward to, something to focus on. Every day, really, if you include your emails. Yes, I had my other students and Tuna and my books and creative writing club, but had we all lost you as well, things would have been very, very different.” 

There would have been a memorial for Awsten. His senior picture would have been printed in all the newspapers for days on end, and there would have been an assembly about him and speculation from the police and the community about whether Awsten had had something to do with Michael’s plan or whether he had merely been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. And all of the good Geoff had been attempting to do in Awsten’s life would have turned sour in Geoff’s memory. 

“I do not know,” Geoff continued quietly, “whether there is a God. But if there is, he chose for you to survive. Your life is not over, Awsten.” 

A memory flickered in Geoff’s mind.

 

_“I am very proud of you,” he stated, and Awsten’s eyes lit up._

_“Did I do okay?” he asked hopefully._

_“Awsten, you did an excellent job.” Geoff handed the paper to him and watched as Awsten’s mouth fell open in shock and subsequently broke into a grin._

_“Ninety-four?!” the boy exclaimed. He looked up, easily happier than Geoff had ever seen him._

_“Ninety-four,” Geoff repeated with a smile._

_“That’s an A!”_

_Geoff chuckled. “Yes, it is. I am quite proud of you,” he repeated._

_Awsten bounced forward and flung his arms around Geoff’s middle. “I’m gonna hang this on the fridge!” he announced._

_Geoff laughed and lightly patted his student's back. “Good. It deserves a spot.”_

_Awsten squeezed his eyes shut but didn’t let go._

 

“I am proud of who you always have been,” Geoff stated firmly, “and I am even more proud of who you are becoming. You have been so brave and strong these past months. You are caring, loving, and compassionate to everyone you meet.”

“Stop,” Awsten muttered, looking a little embarrassed, but Geoff continued.

“The light in your soul is incredibly bright. And Awsten, you have a family. You have a purpose. You are right where you are supposed to be. With Otto, with me, with your mother.”

“With you,” Awsten repeated, and he leaned back in. He still had the shirt pressed against his chest, but he rested his head on Geoff’s shoulder and closed his eyes. 

Geoff exhaled and wrapped one of his arms around Awsten’s back. 

“Did it fuck you up?” Awsten asked softly. 

“Yes,” Geoff admitted. “In small ways.” 

“Like what?” 

“I cannot drink coffee anymore.”

“Because of me,” Awsten said hopelessly. He turned his face inward, hiding it in Geoff’s shoulder. 

“What he did is not your fault,” Geoff promised him quietly. 

“I should have stopped him.” 

“I think we all feel that way. The teachers for certain. His friends. His family. The other parents. The police, the SWAT team, all of the first responders on the scene…” 

“But I was-”

“You,” Geoff interrupted fervently, “were a child. You were neither trained nor qualified to stop him. And yet you did more than anyone else in your shoes could have ever done.” 

Awsten didn’t speak. 

“But it is over now. We cannot change what has happened.” 

“Maybe Otto’s right,” Awsten muttered bitterly.

“No. Everything will be alright,” Geoff murmured. 

“Sure,” Awsten said, a hint of sarcasm in his tone, but Geoff let it go.

Silence fell in the room. The only sound was that of Awsten’s quiet breathing, a sound Geoff was suddenly feeling a little extra thankful to hear. 


End file.
